


Revenge, Part Deux

by pamz



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fist Fight, Foreplay, French, Gunplay, Minor Injuries, Monkeys, More Sex, Sappy Ending, Sex, Toby being Toby, alternative universe, awkward sexual situation, bad language, implied rape, really bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamz/pseuds/pamz
Summary: Alternate Universe - A case involving a drug and gemstone smuggling triangle between Colombia, Spain, and Los Angeles brings a familiar face back to the garage and temptation to a heartbroken Walter.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a response to a comment made by Paige in "Little Boy Lost" that really pissed me off the more I thought about it. And the more I thought about it, this story formed in my mind and it wouldn't let go until I wrote it down. And yeah, I know, I have two other fics to finish. This one will probably get irregular updates, unless it really keeps pestering me.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Scorpion fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of K/O Paper Products, Blackjack Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment, SB Films, CBS Television Studios, or anyone else.

"You've been married to Happy all this time."

Walter winced when he heard the accusation in Paige's voice. They were the only ones still remaining in the garage. Toby had departed in an unusually quiet huff. Happy had hurried after him. Cabe had offered Sly a ride home, and the two men had left shortly thereafter.

"I-I'm sor. . ."

She didn't let him finish his apology. ‘That day at the diner, when you were there with. . .that other woman. . ."

"Janice," he replied. "I was breaking up with her."

"Right. Did she know you were married?"

"No." Walter rubbed the back of his neck. "Paige. . ."

"And what about Linda?" she interrupted again. "I suppose she didn't know either."

He shook his head, a little unnerved by the venom he heard in her words. She was angry. She had every right to be. But he explained. . . Happy had explained. . . Their marriage had been a means to an end, a way for him to get his green card. To be honest, he had pushed it to the back of his mind with the rest of the unimportant data he had no use for.

"And last year," she murmured, breaking through his thoughts, "last year, when we. . .oh, God. . . When we kissed. . . You were married."

"I'm sorry." 

"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you sorry, Walter?" Moving closer, she stopped about a foot away. Near enough so he could detect the lavender scent she always wore, feel the heat radiating off her body. Closing his eyes, he dreamed about taking her into his arms, kissing her until they were both senseless. . . Her shuddering sob snapped him out of his fantasy world.

"You were never going to say anything, were you? You and Happy. . ." She paused as she drew another harsh breath. "You were going to keep your little secret until you got your citizenship, then you and Happy would quietly get divorced while fools like me and Toby were none the wiser.

"That's the real reason why you disapproved of Toby and Happy's relationship, isn't it? Not because it would be bad for Scorpion, but because it would expose your sham of a marriage."

He had no reply. No rebuttal. He couldn't deny it because everything she said was true. 

"Dammit, Walter," she said, breaking the silence. "I loved you. I thought you loved me."

Pain tore through him. ‘Loved.' Past tense. For him, however, it was very much in the present. "I do. I-I do love you," he said. Running his hand through his hair, he added, "It was a business arrangement between two platonic friends so I could stay in the country. I didn't want to go back to Ireland, Happy didn't want to lose her only friend. Neither of us believed we'd ever fall in love with other people because we both denied love even existed. I never believed in romantic love, at least not until I met you." 

Paige stared at him, biting her lip and he could see she was fighting back tears. "Walter," she said softly, "it's not that I don't understand why you did it. I do. You did what you had to do to stay in the country." Swiping at her eyes, she continued, "I just want to know why you thought you couldn't confide in me, why you thought you couldn't trust me."

She tipped her face into her hands. "I can't deal with this anymore tonight. I need to pick up Ralph." Taking a step closer to where he stood, she lifted her eyes to his and he could see just how badly he had hurt her.

"Tim may not be the man of my dreams," she said. "But I know for a fact he's single. I don't waste my time on married men, Walter. Good night." 

Paige spun around, scooped up her belongings from her desk, then marched out of the garage. The slamming of the door reverberated throughout the building. 

The agony gripping his heart, the worthless circulatory muscle that it was, tightened until he was light headed. Walter plopped down into the nearest chair and hid his face in his hands. He'd lost her. And he only had himself to blame.

_____

Paige waited until she got behind the wheel of her car before she let the tears flow down her cheeks. _He was married_.

She felt like she had fallen into some kind of alternate reality. A bizarro world where nothing made sense. One where the man she loved was married to someone else. Yes, sure it was a marriage of convenience, so he could stay in the United States, but. . . God, Happy? Never, in a million years would she have ever guessed the mechanic's husband was Walter. 

And poor Toby, blindsided by the double whammy of finding out his best friend was married to the love of his life, and that she was pregnant. He'd left the garage without a word, quietly putting his hat on his head and stalking out the door. Paige had never seen him so. . .well, at a loss for words. Whatever pain she was feeling, his had to be twice as bad.

Wiping at her damp face with a tissue she had fished out of her purse, Paige slipped the key into the ignition. What she had told Walter earlier was true, she didn't waste her time on married men. Besides, she was with Tim now. Nice, normal, average, blond, bland, boring Tim. And if sometimes she dreamed of a rude, arrogant, weird, curly haired genius. . . Well, she'd only had herself to blame.

Resting her head against the steering wheel for a moment, she then started her vehicle and drove away.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat canonical up to this point as the events in "We're Gonna Need a Bigger Vote" (3x07) clarified a few details I'd been struggling with. I probably be diverting from canon from this chapter forward.

**A Month Later**

Walter couldn't sleep. He often had trouble turning off his brain, but tonight. . . it was impossible. 

After almost four weeks of pretending their marriage was real, Happy was barely speaking to him. Toby was still pissed at him. Sylvester had cracked under all the tension and now spent most of his time with his role-playing wizard pals. Cabe had distanced himself during the INS inspection, mainly to keep himself ignorant of their scheming, but also to avoid Ms Linehan, who had developed a rather alarming crush on the Homeland agent. 

And Paige. . . Well, as she told anyone who would listen - she was with Tim now. The image of her in the sparkling blue dress, the thought of her meeting the interloper's parents, the bloody statistics Toby had been tossing about, like the high probability Paige would marry Tim and have another child with him . . .

Raking his hand through his hair, he tamped the bile back down his throat. He'd always scoffed at the idea a person could have a broken heart. It was a physical impossibility to suffer from one and not be dead. But Ralph's words had proved him wrong, as they had sliced the circulatory muscle in his chest in two as neatly as any knife. 

He'd blown it. He should have taken her dancing. He should have asked her to go to Tahoe with him. He should have followed through on his vow to close the distance between them. He should have. . . Closing his eyes, he groaned. None of his regrets mattered now. She wanted nothing to do with him as long as he was a married man. 

The only person who had ever understood him was dead. He missed his sister so much. But even when Megan had been alive, he'd spent most of his life by himself, isolated from other human beings, by both his intellect and lack of social skills. 

His friends either were mad at him or were avoiding him. Scorpion was in danger of going under. He was probably going to be deported at any minute. Ralph was becoming less and less a part of his life. And he'd lost the only woman he would ever love.

He'd never felt so alone before in his life.

_____

"Hey, Walter."

He looked up to see Ralph running toward his desk later that morning. "Hey, buddy, what's up?"

Behind the boy, a bleary eyed Walter watched as Tim escorted Paige to her desk, then plop his interloping ass on the edge of it, flirting with the liaison as she put away her belongings. His stomach churned as they chatted and laughed about the previous evening's ball.

"I forgot to show you this yesterday." Ralph had removed a paper from his backpack and was waving it under Walter's nose. A large red ‘100%' was written across the top of the page. Scanning it quickly, Walter realized it was the calculus test he'd helped Ralph study for the previous week.

"Good job." He held up his hand so the youngster could slap him a high-five. 

"Thanks." Walter watched as Ralph scrunched up his mouth. "I wish. . ." the boy started to say before quickly darting his eyes to where his mother and the intern were engaged in some banal banter.

"I know. I'm sorry." Walter diverted his gaze back to the math paper. Ralph hadn't really needed his help, he knew calculus inside and out. It had just been an excuse so the boy genius could spend more time with him.

"They're going away for the weekend," Ralph murmured. "Some romantic place up the coast. I'm sick of hearing about it." With a sigh only a preteen could pull off, he added, "Tim seems really enthusiastic about their trip. I mean, _really_ enthusiastic. He keeps looking at my mom with a big grin on his face whenever he talks about it. It's disgusting."

Walter choked on the sip of coffee he'd just taken. _Oh, shit_. They were going to sleep together. If they hadn't already. Paige neither had confirmed nor denied if she'd been intimate with the other man. He knew it was none of his business, but. . . It hurt. The thought of her and the interloper together. . .

Giving his head a shake to clear it of its disturbing images, he turned his attention back to the youngster. "You could stay with me. . ." he started to offer before the boy interrupted.

"I'm staying with Sylvester. It's already been arranged." Ralph rolled his eyes. "Sly's taking me to a comic book convention. Not the cool one in San Diego though. Some lame one over in West Covina."

"Oh, okay." Walter felt sorry for the kid. Ralph loved his mother and she'd do anything for her son. But she was either ignoring or indifferent to the boy's pain. Even he could tell she was making Ralph miserable with her choice.

A horn sounded outside. "Carpool, Ralph," Paige called, diverting her attention away from the trainee for a moment.

"I gotta go." The boy genius hefted up his backpack, then pointed to the math paper on Walter's desk. "You can keep it. . .if you want." 

"I will. And thanks." Walter watched as the boy scramble out of the building. He didn't blame Ralph for being disappointed with him. But he'd promised not to interfere. And as much as he regretted making that vow, he knew to break it would not endear him to anyone, especially Paige. Plus it would be futile, since she'd made it plain she wanted nothing to do with a married man.

Glancing up, he noticed Tim was still perched on her desk. He wanted to tell the other man to quit bothering her so she could do her work. He had every right to do so, he was the boss. But. . . 

The door creaked open noisily as it admitted Cabe into the garage. ""Walter! Good news," he announced as he strode inside, waving a manila file. "I received a call from Washington, D.C. this morning. The president wanted to thank Team Scorpion for all their help yesterday so he issued an executive order, granting you citizenship."

Walter was speechless. He'd been so sure he was about to be tossed from the country. This was. . .unexpected.

"He can do that?" asked Paige, getting out of her chair and walking toward the Homeland agent.

"He can and he did." Cabe smiled. "Naturalization ceremony is this Friday at 1:30 at the convention center. Congratulations, son." 

The older man clapped him on the back before giving him a small US flag he'd had in his jacket pocket with one hand and the folder he'd been carrying with the other. "Agent Linehan dropped these off at my office this morning. She didn't seem very happy. I don't think she likes me anymore." He chuckled.

Walter took the file Cabe proffered and opened it. The big red "APPROVED' stamp across the top of the application should have made him feel something; happiness, relief, pride; something other than the emptiness gnawing at his insides. 

"And after the ceremony, we can buzz up the street a few blocks to the county courthouse and file the divorce papers," said Toby. He tapped a pile of papers on his desk. "All filled out and ready to go."

"Because that won't appear suspicious at all," Sylvester pointed out. 

"Once he's a citizen, it won't matter anymore," said the shrink. "And baby Quintus is making his/her appearance in less than six months. We can't waste any more time."

"I hate to rain on your parade, Doc," Cabe said as he poured himself a coffee. "But it took six months for my divorce from Rebecca to go through. And it wasn't all that complicated. No custody, no alimony. . ."

"I won't be contesting it," Walter said. "There's no communal property to divide up, and like you said no custody or alimony agreements to work out."

"I'm not 100% sure, but I think that's just the minimum wait," the agent said. 

"You're serious?" Toby's voice trembled as he glanced from Cabe to Walter. "Shit." He pointed at Walter. "This is all your fucking fault, you bastard. Why couldn't you have gone back to Ireland for six fucking months when your visa ran out instead of forcing Happy into an illegal marriage?" He took a menacing step toward Walter. "You mother. . ."

"Toby!" Paige's shout interrupted his profanity laced rant. "That's enough of that kind of language."

"He didn't force me to do anything, numb nuts," Happy snapped as Toby glanced from woman to woman. "It was my idea in the first place."

"What? Why am I just hearing this now?" the shrink wailed angrily.

"Have you told me about every horrendously stupid decision you've ever made?" The mechanic glared at the father of her child, who shook his head. "I didn't think so." 

"God dammit, I just had to spend four of the most hellish weeks of my life watching you and Walter pretend to be married, and now you're telling me I have to wait another six months before you can divorced his sorry ass?" He growled in frustration, spinning around as if he was looking for something to hit.

"You can all sort out your personal lives later," growled Cabe. "I'm not just here as the INS's errand boy. We've got another case to deal with."

Reluctantly, everyone gathered around as the agent outlined what he knew about the mission. "It involves a drug smuggling ring that operates between Colombia, Spain, and Los Angeles. Cocaine and emeralds are shipped from Colombia to Spain. Spain sends the money to LA to get laundered. The freshly washed cash is forwarded on to the cartel headquarters in Colombia. 

"The money trail has been staked out for months. We just couldn't figure out how the drugs and jewels were reaching Spain. They weren't coming over in planes or boats. They weren't using drug mules."

"So what do they want from us?" asked Walter. "This doesn't sound like our area of expertise."

"I'm getting to that," Cabe said. "Turns out they bought an old Soviet nuclear sub and outfitted it with sonar and radar jamming software."

"So it travels undetected from port to port?" asked Sylvester. 

"That's correct," the older man said. "We're guessing they stick to the Caribbean and the Atlantic. Going through the Panama Canal would blow their cover."

"Makes sense," agreed Walter. "Where is it now?"

"Waiting to be dry docked in Cartagena," the agent replied. "Our intel says for routine maintenance and upgrades."

"Upgrades?" Walter now knew why Scorpion was needed for the job. "They want us to go in and hack the jamming software so its whereabouts will be exposed, and. . ."

"Catch them red-handed with a sub full of blow," finished Cabe. "We're going to be working with the DEA and Interpol on this one."

"Interpol?" Toby popped out of his chair. "Does that mean. . ."

His question was interrupted by the garage door opening. A tall woman with long brown hair entered the building, the heels of her shoes clicking on the concrete floor.

"Hello," said Agent Simone Taylor, smiling as she scanned the team's faces. Her grin broadened as her eyes rested on their leader. "Good to see you again, Walter."

"S-Simone, nice to. . .see you." Walter gulped nervously. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. Her hair was longer now, and she seemed, well, softer. And the way she was looking at him. . . 

That hadn't changed at all. He recalled in vivid detail how her hand had felt on his thigh, her husky voice asking him up to her room. At the time, he hadn't regretted turning down her offer. But now. . .

His eyes met with Simone's. She gazed knowingly at him, as if she was reading his mind. It was obvious her interest in sleeping with him had not diminished over time.

Paige was more than likely having sex with Tim or would soon be. She'd moved on. He needed to do the same. Taking a deep breath, he realized if Simone did indeed extend the same invitation to him again, there was an excellent chance he would accept it this time without hesitation.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another apology for taking so long to update this story. I don't like making promises I know I probably won't keep, but I'm hoping to post new content on a more regular basis. I've come up with some juicy, juicy angst for this story I'm itching to write and hopefully you'll want to read. Thanks once again for sticking with this story and with me.

Paige stared blindly, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Walter and the French agent were smiling at each other, like there was some kind of secret knowledge between them. Then it dawned on her what was going on and she had to stifle a gasp.

Walter. O'Brien. was. Flirting. 

Jealousy erupted inside her. An emotion she had no business feeling. She was with Tim now. She'd moved on. She didn't waste time on married men. Yet no matter what she told herself, the idea of Walter with the other woman made her sick to her stomach. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Tim's overly pleasant voice shook her from her wayward thoughts. She flinched away when he put his hand on the small of her back. She hated it when he touched her there, as it brought back memories of another man's hand in the same spot, awkwardly holding her while they danced. A twinge of pain shot through her at the thought she'd probably never feel Walter's hand there again.

"I'm fine," she replied through tight lips. "Just tired from last night."

"Not as tired as I'd like you to be," he muttered under his breath. 

"What?" Oh, she'd heard what he'd said. It had been building for the past several weeks, the not-so-subtle pressure to take their relationship to the next level, which for him evidently meant sex. A step she wasn't ready for, even though they'd been going out for months. She wanted to blame her reluctance on the fact had been nearly ten years since she'd been intimate with anyone. But she knew that wasn't the real reason.

"Nothing." 

"Hey, are you two listening?" Paige glanced at Cabe, wondering which couple he was scolding. Tim had snapped to attention beside her as had Walter and Simone. Her stomach lurched at just the thought of linking their names together.

"Walter, you and Sylvester will be the part of the team installing the new software updates. Simone, too, of course." The Homeland agent nodded toward the French woman. "And Paige, you speak Spanish, right?"

He didn't wait for her answer, instead continuing handing out assignments. "You four will make up the install team. The rest of us will provide backup at a nearby location near the marina." Flipping his wrist to look at his watch, he added, "Plane leaves in two hours. The sub is scheduled for dry dock at 0600 tomorrow morning."

"I better go make arrangements for Ralph," she said as she stepped away from Tim. 

"Sure," said the trainee. "We'll be back before Friday night, right?" he called over to Cabe, who had gone over to chat with Walter and the French woman.

"We should be back by tomorrow night," Gallo replied. "Why? You got plans?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Tim glanced over at Paige as she picked up the phone to call the sitter and winked. "Paige and I are heading up the coast to a B & B. Suppose to be very romantic." 

She plastered a smile onto her face as she dialed with shaking hands. Great, now everyone knew they were planning to be intimate. Glancing at Walter, who was once again speaking with the French woman, she saw nothing in his expression indicating he'd even heard Tim's blatant bragging. He was too busy grinning like an idiot at the Interpol agent. 

"Hello?" A woman's voice she recognized as Ralph's sitter broke through her disturbing thoughts. Paige heard a bit of impatience and wondered how long she'd been staring at Walter.

"Sorry," she said before quickly explaining the reason for her call.

_____

Walter was stowing his laptop into his backpack when Paige approached his desk.

"Uh, congratulations," she said, glancing down at the little flag Cabe had given him he'd stuck into his pen caddy. "On becoming on citizen," she added with a nervous sounding chuckle. "That was unexpected, huh?"

"Yeah." He made a show of opening and closing the various zippers on his pack. 

"It'll be nice to be working with. . .ah, Agent Taylor again, don't you think?" she asked hesitantly.

"Simone?" He wondered what she was playing at. She had more or less severed all personal ties with him, their interactions restricted to Scorpion business only since she'd learned he was married. "I guess," he replied with a shrug.

"You were pretty friendly with her last time."

"I maintained a professional relationship with her, yes," he replied in a clipped tone. 

She raised her eyebrows in a manner he recognized as disbelief. He'd told no one about the celebratory drink or of the Interpol agent's invitation to her bed. He'd only gone out for the drink because Paige had accepted a date with Drew. A smile rose on his lips as he remembered how they had both ditched their dates, ending up keeping an all-night vigil in Sylvester's hospital room with the rest of the team, reading Super Fun Guy comics. Back when they were still a family. Before Tim. His smile turned into a frown.

"My Spanish is a little rusty," she announced out of the blue. "I didn't even know you could speak it."

"I'm fluent in seven languages, passable in as many more." He slipped his pack over his shoulders. "Are you ready to depart?" He flipped his right wrist and glanced at his watch. "Cabe said we need to leave in less than ten minutes in order to arrive at the airport in time."

For a moment, he thought he saw tears well up in the corner of her eyes before she composed herself. What did she expect? It was her fault he was more human now. That he had suffered when she cut him from her life. He never wanted to go through pain like that again if he could help it.

"Okay, well, I better go finish up then." 

"Yes, you should." Bending down, he picked up his duffel and moved toward the door. 

"Walter, all ready to go?" Simone asked as she intercepted him halfway across the garage.

"Yes."

She smiled at him. "I have my own vehicle. You and I could leave now and let the others catch up."

"Okay." He grinned back at her. "Let's go."

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the sour expression on Paige's face as she crammed a hairbrush into her case. She couldn't be. . .jealous? Could she? It didn't make any sense. She'd made it plain she didn't want him. Why would she care if someone else showed an interest in him?

With a shake of his head, he walked side by side with Simone as they left the garage.

_____

About an hour after their chartered plane had taken off from the Van Nuys airport, Toby plopped down in the empty seat next to Walter. Simone had been sitting there until they were in the air, then she'd gone back to speak to Cabe.

"Ooo-la-la," said the shrink. "So, you and the French femme fatale."

"Shut up, Toby." Walter crossed his arms over his chest before looking over his shoulder. Tim and Paige were seated two rows back, each of them staring out of separate windows. "I thought you were pissed at me," he said, turning his attention back to the psychiatrist.

"Oh, I am, big brain." He leaned in closer and whispered, "But I still think you should sleep with Simone."

"What?" Walter's voice rang out, drawing everyone's eyes to him. Great, just great. Sliding down in his seat, he glared at Toby. "Not that I'm going to take you unsolicited advice, but why should I do that?"

"We've already established Paige has moved on with Tim. If they're not already knocking boots, they will be this weekend." Walter looked at him in surprise. "It's been the worst kept secret in the garage for a week," the shrink stated.

"I just found out today. Ralph told me. About the B & B, not that they were going to have sex," he added. "I figured that out on my own."

Toby shrugged. "Like I said, she's moved on. You need to do the same. I saw how Simone looked at you when she worked with us before, when Sly was injured. She's warm for your form, buddy."

"I don't know. . ."

"Yes you do." The shrink moved forward, lowering his voice again. "You need to move on. Moping around the garage like a kicked puppy is bringing us all down."

"Oh, I'm so sorry if my pain caused you to feel bad," said Walter sarcastically. "Sorry if I'm having a little trouble dealing with having my heart ripped out. The one I never wanted to acknowledge existed in the first place. You haven't exactly been helpful."

"Settle down, 197." The psychiatrist adjusted his hat. "I'm helping now. And my professional advice is to let the gorgeous French agent have her wicked way with you. If a romp in the sheets with her doesn't cure what ails you, nothing will."

Patting him on the shoulder, Toby then popped out of the seat and went back to harassing Happy, leaving Walter to stare at his hands. He didn't know why the psychiatrist's suggestion rankled him. He'd been thinking along similar lines himself. But to hear it so cold-bloodedly presented by someone else. . . It just seemed so, well, cold-blooded.

Physical beauty alone had never sexually attracted him. He'd dated several women, three more than once. He'd given them a chance, hoping to connect with them as more than just friends. But it never happened.

And then he'd met Paige. He'd seen something special in her that day at the diner. It had turned into something he never even believed existed. Love. He knew beyond a doubt he would love her, and only her, the rest of his life. 

Which was why he was struggling with the temptation Simone presented. She was beautiful, yes. Smart, tough, determined, all traits he admired in a woman. But how could he be contemplating intimacy with her if Paige still held and would always hold his heart? It just didn't seem right. 

Of course, Simone chose that moment to sit back down beside him. "We should be in Cartagena by eight," she commented. "Have you been there before?" She smiled at him before placing her hand just above his knee, sending a jolt of lust throughout his body.

Oh boy.

_____

"This is too easy."

Walter turned to stare incredulously at Sylvester as they hacked into the submarine's computer. "What do you mean? We've had nothing but trouble since we've arrived last night."

It had started after they had landed at a private airstrip outside of Cartagena. Their transport into the city had a flat tire. Once it was fixed and they finally arrived at their hotel, it had been almost midnight, and their rooms had been given to others. The eight of them had been stuffed into two rooms, the three women in one, and the five men in the other. 

Between Sly's snoring, Toby's whining about not being able to sleep with Happy, Cabe's jerky farts, and Tim's general obnoxiousness, Walter had barely slept at all, and had ended up on a sofa in the lobby. 

The sub's dry docking had been delayed by four hours while a crew worked on a malfunctioning gate. They had been challenged as they tried to board the vessel. Simone's no-nonsense attitude coupled with several flirtatious smiles had gained them the access necessary to their mission.

"I know," said the human calculator. "This program, it's too simple. I expected something more sophisticated."

"Me, too," Walter grunted as he typed code into his laptop to upload to the submarine's ancient computer.

Sly pushed up his glasses before taking out his com. "I think Simone likes you."

Stunned by the sudden change of subject, it took Walter a moment to remove his ear piece before asking, "What makes you say that?"

"She smiles at you all the time. And she's always touching you." Sylvester added, "Like Paige used to do, you know, before you started dating Linda and she started dating Tim."

"We were just professional colleagues," Walter said through clenched teeth. "There was never. . ."

"Horse-pucky. You two were in love with each other. It was obvious to the rest of us."

"It wasn't obvious to me." Walter closed his eyes as an ache radiated from deep inside his chest. He'd been the last to know how deeply he loved Paige. He'd been such a moron.

Sylvester sighed as his fingers flew over the keys. "I don't think she loves Tim."

"What makes you think that?" Walter was genuinely curious.

"She keeps telling everyone she's with Tim now. It's like she has to keep reminding herself she's with him. She acts a little too happy, to cover up the fact she's not happy."

"When did you became such an expert on women and their feelings?" Walter's question was tinged with humor.

"When I met your sister."

"Oh." He didn't know why, but it kept slipping his mind Sly had been married to Megan. Probably because he didn't like thinking about Megan and how she was no longer with him. Pain filled his chest again and he had to take a breath.

"It doesn't matter," he lied. "Paige chose Tim over me and I promised to stay out of it. It's out of my hands."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" asked Sylvester. "If you love her as much as I love Megan. . . I mean, I would have never given up on her. Never. I would have fought for her no matter what. She's the love of my life."

Walter stared at the man who had become his brother in astonishment. For him, it may have been that simple. He didn't have to contend with someone like Tim. He hadn't messed up so badly there was no going back. Fighting for Paige when she wanted nothing to do with him was an exercise in futility.

He'd lost her forever. And the sooner he accepted it, the better.


	4. Chapter Three

Paige and Simone had swept the vessel for any trace of illegal activity while Walter and Sylvester had gone to the control room to begin their work. Paige had found a few questionable items, like white powdery residue in some plastic baggies in a trash can. Taking pictures with her camera phone, she had cleared her half of the vessel before heading up to the deck where a surveillance center had been installed.

Simone joined her about ten minutes later. "Did you see anything suspicious?" the French agent asked as she strode into the room.

"Yes, I took photos." Paige touched the screen of her cell before handing it to the other woman.

Watching as Simone swiped through the pictures, Paige tried not to yield to the irrational jealousy at the thought of Walter and her. . .together. She wondered what she had missed the first time they had worked with the Interpol agent. She'd been so wrapped up in worrying about Sylvester plus Drew pressuring her to go out with him, she hadn't noticed anything untoward. Something had occurred between the agent and the genius, that much was now obvious.

"Oh, is this your son?" Simone asked, holding up the phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," she added as Paige just stared at her. "It's just that Walter has told me so much about him."

"Yes, that's Ralph," she replied, snatching the cell from the other woman's hand. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from asking when the two of them had discussed her son. Had Walter been in contact with her since that first case? She didn't know why, but the thought of them communicating without her knowledge felt like a betrayal. 

Simone smiled. "He's cute. Walter says he's even smarter than he is. I could tell he's very fond of him."

"Yes." Tears welled up in her eyes and she had to take a deep breath. "Aren't we supposed to keep a lookout?" she asked, waving her hand at the dark monitors.

"Of course." The agent powered up the console and one by one, the cameras came online. 

Paige saw Walter and Sly pop up on one of the screens, appearing to be in the middle of a serious conversation as they both typed on their laptops. They must have taken out their coms because she couldn't hear what they were saying. Wishing she could read lips, she sat down, leaning back as she crossed her arms.

She watched as Walter closed his eyes, his lips compressed as what she could only describe as anguish spread over his features. Wondering what could be causing him such pain, she peeked over at the woman seated beside her, who was looking at another monitor.

An awkward silence grew, at least Paige thought so. The other woman seemed perfectly content to stare at the screens. She and Simone had nothing in common, well, other than this mission. . .and Walter. His gruff attitude the day before had hurt, although she didn't know what she'd expected. She'd told him to stay out of her personal life. He was doing as she requested. Then why had it brought her to tears when he'd been so cold and impersonal. It was what she wanted. Wasn't it?

Sighing wearily, she tossed another glance Simone's way. She could see why Walter would be attracted to her. She was beautiful, smart, determined. . . Paige knew she was being bitchy but she imagined the French woman collected lovers like some women collected shoes. She had suspicions about her genius boss, suspicions explaining why he was so clueless around women. A sophisticated woman like Simone would expect. . .well, _things_. . .things he'd probably never done before. 

Paige didn't think Simone would deliberately be cruel, but. . . Tipping her head back, she shut her eyes. She had to stop caring, she needed to stop caring. . . But she just couldn't. The thought of Walter being humiliated at the hands of the woman sitting beside her. . .any woman, really. . . It angered and sickened her. 

"Are you unwell?" The French accented voice startled her. She shot a glance at the other woman and plastered a phony smile on her face.

"No, I'm fine." Returning her gaze to the screens, she watched as a black Humvee pulled up the dry dock's access area. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing at the monitor as four men climbed out of the vehicle.

" _Merde_." Simone tapped her com. "Cabe, men from the cartel have arrived. I've ID'd one of them as Luis Ramón, one of the cartel's chief lieutenants. We're going to need back-up."

"Copy that," the agent replied. "Walter, Sylvester, you hear that?"

"They took their coms out," stated Paige, still curious what the pair had been talking about. Looking at them, they were still busily hacking away, the conversation between them obviously over, their ear pieces laying forgotten on the control panel.

"Well, hell. Tell them to get out of there, then get out yourselves." Cabe's growl set both women in motion.

_____

Walter frowned as he heard two sets of shoes clanking their way down the spiral staircase on the other side of the computer room. He glanced up then stared as Paige and Simone burst through the narrow archway.

"The cartel's here," Simone said breathlessly. "We need to get out of here."

A loud clanging sound rang out above them, followed by voices and footsteps. Lifting his eyes upward, panic spread through his body, his heartbeat grew rapid and his breathing shallowed. In a matter of minutes, they were going to be caught, and by the frightened expression on Sly's face, the odds they would die were nearly 100%. 

"I can't leave," Walter said, his eyes returning to his notebook. "I haven't finished installing the code to override the jamming software."

"Walter, we have to get out of here," declared Paige nervously. "These are drug lords. They kill people."

"I know. I need just five more minutes." He glanced up from his laptop. "Go. I'll catch up."

The liaison shook his head. "No way. We all go or we all stay."

"No." He turned away, refocusing his efforts. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Paige as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not falling for that one again. If you're staying, I'm staying," she declared stubbornly.

"Fine. Simone, get Sylvester out of here."

"Walter." He heard a level of panic in the human calculator's voice warning him the other man was close to shutting down. 

"It'll be all right, Sly. I'm almost done. Go."

Simone placed her hand on his shoulder. "Be careful, Walter, _s'il vous plaît_." She trailed her fingers down his biceps before giving him a gentle squeeze. "Come on, Sylvester," she said as she drew out her service revolver.

The two of them fled the computer room. Walter shook his head, the French agent's reassuring yet suggestive touch scrambling his brain for a second. Taking a deep breath, he resumed his typing.

Paige was pacing behind him, tension coming off of her in waves. Why had she refused to leave? She certainly couldn't be worried about him. If she was, she wouldn't have been flaunting the interloper in his face these past months, knowing how he felt about her.

A burst of angry Spanish interrupted his wandering thoughts. "They're in the surveillance room," Paige interpreted as she grabbed his arm. "Oh, God, we forgot to shut off the monitors. They can see us right now. Walter, we need to go." 

The unexpected pressure on his upper arm, the same one Simone had touched, jerked his head around to stare at Paige. 

The look on his face caused Paige to drop her hand as if it were burned. There was so much. . . She couldn't even describe it in only one word. It was a seething mass of anger, annoyance, and. . .agony. All directed at her. And all of it deserved.

She ducked her head away first, diverting her attention to his laptop. The download bar was rapidly approaching completion. "Walter, it's done," she said when he didn't react when it had finished.

Wordlessly, he yanked out the USB cord and shoved his computer into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulders. "Let's go," he said briskly before stalking out of the room. 

When they reached the bottom of the nearest staircase, Paige glanced upward, then tugged on Walter's sleeve, pointing at a foot on the top step. "Shit," he muttered, spinning around and heading in the opposite direction. She followed, having a difficult time keeping up with his hurried pace. 

Moments later, the other stairs leading topside appeared. Walter didn't even stop, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward another spiral set of stairs going down to the next level. She discovered why seconds later, as footsteps pounded down the other staircase.

Running down the narrow passageway, they climbed upward when they reached a flight of stairs. He slowed down, cautiously approaching each door before proceeding. After stumbling into a large room at the opposite end of the vessel, Paige heard one of the men tell the others to keep searching. Glancing at Walter, she saw he had also translated the order, and caught a glimpse of panic in his eyes.

As soon as Walter entered the room, he realized it was a dead end. Spinning around as Paige rushed in behind him, he discovered they were in the torpedo room. There were two launch tubes, each large enough for a person to fit within.

"Quick, get inside," he ordered, grabbing Paige's hand and pulling her to the closest torpedo bay. "Feet first. Don't let the door close all the way." 

She nodded. "Okay." She began to climb inside but paused when she was halfway in. "Where will you be?"

"Right here." He pulled open the hatch on the second tube. "Dammit."

"What's wrong?" she asked as she slipped inside the narrow bay.

"There's a torpedo in this one." Clenching his fists, Walter frantically scanned the room for another hiding place, coming up empty. The footsteps were growing louder as did men's voices, heightening his anxiety.

"Get in," Paige hissed. He turned to see her scooting to one side of the tube.

"There's not enough space for. . ."

"Dammit, Walter, don't argue. Get in here." Under her irritated tone, he heard her terror. The drug lords were closing in and he really didn't have any other choice. Taking a deep breath, he clambered up to the opening, sliding the length of his body inside feet first, before shutting the hatch until only a sliver of light remained.

He knew immediately he should have resisted her offer. They were lying on their sides, face to face, their bodies intimately melded together from their chests to their thighs. Closing his eyes, he stifled a moan as he became aware of her every soft curve, breathed in her lavender scent, the heat radiating through her clothing scorching his own feverish skin.

Paige wriggled, to get comfortable or to put some distance between them, he didn't know. Either way, she failed miserably, her movement causing the awkward situation to grow even more so. A gasp escaped her lips, drawing his attention to her face, where her hazel eyes were staring back at him, her pupils huge in the dim light.

He trembled with need, spiraling out of control as she shuddered against him. Her heart was beating in sync with his, her breathing the same shallow pattern. It was taking all of his rapidly dissolving willpower not to thrust himself against the dampening apex of her thighs. 

Then she tremulously lifted her hand and gently stroked his face before slipping it behind his head and threading her fingers in his hair. It was if all their animosity had been forgotten, as if he hadn't screwed up so badly, as if she wasn't with the interloper. Just the two of them, all alone, together like he'd imagined so many times in his dreams. He swallowed nervously, struggling for air. Softly groaning her name, he placed her hand on her hip, gliding it up to her waist. 

She should have listened to him. He'd been right, there wasn't enough space for two people in the slender tube. Watching him close his eyes, she became aware of the solidness of his body against hers. His scent, a mixture of soap and sweat, caused her heart to beat faster and made it hard to catch her breath, as did the warmth radiating through his clothing.

Shifting so she wasn't lying on her arm, she gasped as he surged against her belly, and she could feel every hard inch of him. His eyes met hers, so dark and deep she felt herself drowning in them. She trembled with need, spiraling out of control as he shuddered against her. It took every bit of her rapidly dissolving willpower not to grind herself on his erection.

Instead she lifted a shaking hand, gently touching his face before sliding her fingers into his curls. It was just the two of them again, like in the dreams she still had of them together. She'd forgiven him for messing up so badly, hoping he could forgive her for giving up on him. He groaned her name as he reached out, placing his hand on her hip before gliding it up to her waist.

"Oh, God, Walter," she whispered, moving her face closer to his, her tongue moistening her lips as they neared his.


	5. Chapter Four

A shout sounded from close by. " _Mira ahi_."

Paige and Walter both froze. ‘Look in here.' She knew he had interpreted the order just as she had. They were in danger of being discovered at any moment. And although she had no idea of the odds they would die if captured (that was Sylvester's department), she knew they were bad. 

She could see Walter had come to the same conclusion. Taking a deep breath, she made a decision she would more than likely regret, but would regret even more if she didn't do it.

Pulling his head to hers, she gently touched her lips to his mouth. He remained still for a second or two, before returning the kiss with a passion that threatened to overwhelm her, tangling his tongue with hers as his hand traveled downward to cup her ass. She hadn't thought he could grow harder, but she'd been wrong. Desire spread like fire through her body, and she rocked herself against him.

" _Aqui_ ," said a voice from only a few feet away. 

Walter jerked away, staring at her with a stunned expression on his face, almost as if he'd been slapped. The footsteps grew nearer. She held her breath, noting Walter was doing the same. Muttered Spanish curses filled the air as the man searched the room.

_Please don't look in the torpedo bays_ , she pleaded silently. Tightening her hold on Walter, she closed her eyes. He moved his hand upward, placing it on the small of her back. The memory of him touching her there as they'd danced drove the terror from her mind as she relived how unexpectedly sensual his touch had been. . .and still was. Glancing at his face, she wondered if he was also thinking of that dance. Or if his pounding heart and ragged breathing were caused by the fact he was frightened as she was. 

The interior of the bay abruptly darkened, the small sliver of light blocked by the man searching for them. Paige could see the gaudy floral pattern of his shirt, a wave of his spicy cologne wafted into the tube. It irritated her nostrils until she knew she was going to sneeze, giving away their hiding place and signing both their death warrants.

She could barely see the terrified expression on Walter's face as he realized what she was about to do. Reaching up, he pinched her nose, killing the sneeze before it could betray their location.

" _Mierde_." Light once again flooded the torpedo bay as the man and his eye-watering scent moved away from the hatch as someone else entered the room. " _Nada aqui_."

" _Si, vamonos_." Two sets of footsteps faded into the distance.

"Walther." Paige's nasal whisper made him aware he was still holding her nose.

He immediately let go. "Sorry." 

"No, it's okay. If I had sneezed. . ." She shuddered, reminding him their bodies remained crushed together in a very compromising position. 

Walter never wanted to leave the confines of the torpedo tube. One, because what had happened between them, what _was_ happening between them, made him realize his feelings for her would never change. He would love her until he died, even if she never loved him back.

And two, as much as he was tried to will it away, his erection would not subside. He needed to get out, make sure the coast was clear, help Paige out. . . But. . .he had a bit of a logistics problem, not to mention, in order to slide out, the unruly part of his anatomy would pass right by her face. A groan escaped him at the thought of her mouth near his. . .

"Are you okay?" Paige's worried whisper interrupted his errant thoughts.

"Yes, fine," he lied. "I. . .um. . .I. . ." An idea popped into his head. "I, uh, need to roll over so I can, um. . ." He waved his hand toward the hatch.

Her eyes darted downward then back up as she figured out his dilemma. "Oh. Okay." He watched as her cheeks glowed pink as his own face burned. 

He lost count of how many times he accidentally bumped into her as he turned himself around or how many times he muttered, "I'm sorry." But finally he climbed out of the bay, then assisted Paige.

They were about to step out into the passageway when they heard soft footsteps. Walter pushed Paige back into torpedo room, positioning himself in front of her.

"Walter?"

Simone. "Here." Surreptitiously tugging down the front of his shirt, he peered out the doorway and saw the French agent coming toward them, both hands on her gun as she lowered it.

"Where's Sylvester?" he asked, hoping she had not lost the human calculator somewhere, or worse, abandoned him to fend for himself.

"Safe. . .for now," she replied. "Come with me." She spun around and headed up the passageway. 

Walter glanced at Paige, noting the thin line of her lips, which he had learned meant she was displeased. Wondering if something had happened between the two women which had upset the liaison, he followed her and the Interpol agent as they wended their way to the top of the submarine. 

Simone led them to the surveillance room, where Sylvester was viewing the monitors. "They're all on the dock," he said. The four men had gathered around their Humvee, one of them yelling in a cell phone as he gestured angrily.

"Waiting for us to come out so they can shoot us like sitting ducks," Walter surmised. He reached into his ear for his com before he remembered he'd taken it out. "Dammit, where's Cabe and the others? We need them to provide a distraction."

Sly pointed at one of the screens. "There." Walter watched as their transport spun onto the concrete pad before slamming on its brakes, squealing to a halt fifty feet across from the Humvee. 

"Let's go," he said, heading to the ladder leading to the hatch. The others followed.

Two of the cartel members whipped out pistols as the other two reached into their vehicle, each drawing out a machine gun. Cabe and Tim hopped out on the far side of the transport, both with their weapons ready. Walter wondered as he and the others exited submarine where Toby and Happy were as the two sides exchanged gunfire.

" _Courir!_ Run!" Simone waved her arm then sprinted toward the transport, firing her gun at the drug lords.

Walter pushed Sly and Paige into action, running alongside the younger man. "Keep down!" he cautioned after a bullet whizzed past his head. They both immediately obeyed. They had almost reached their vehicle when he heard Paige yelp, turning just in time to see her trip over a crack in the concrete, sprawling flat onto the hard surface. 

"Paige!" Giving Sylvester a encouraging shove, he started to spin around to go help her up.

"Paige!" Tim lowered his revolver, darting out from behind the transport.

"No!" yelled the Interpol agent, gesturing with her gun. "Walter! Keep running! Armstrong! Hold your position!" Cabe added his voice to the fray as well. "Tim! Get back here! That's an order!"

The trainee ignored the French woman and the Homeland agent, dashing toward Paige, who had risen up on all fours. He bent over to assist her to her feet, flinching when a shot struck his upper right arm. Walter had reached their vehicle, observing helplessly as Tim easily lifted Paige into his arms and carried her while dodging more bullets, blood dripping from his wound.

Walter turned away, disgusted by the nauseating display of macho heroism. Disgusted with himself for thinking for even one second he still had a chance with her. The kiss which she had initiated, had been born of a moment of mortality, not of any desire on her part. That he had returned it in such a fervent manner, pouring every bit of the love he felt for her into it, made him sick with shame. What he had thought as her responding in kind, had no doubt been her repulsing him.

"Get in!" Cabe fired off several more shots as the rest of the team piled into their vehicle. Then the agent hurled himself into the driver's seat and peeled out, fishtailing as he drove away. The drug lords kept shooting, even when they were out of range.

Racing through the narrow streets of the port area, Cabe screeched to a halt outside of a dilapidated old warehouse. Toby and Happy clambered inside, barely getting their butts into their seats before Gallo floorboarded the gas, the tires squealing as they took off.

Simone, who was crammed in the front seat between the agent and Walter, twisted around to face the rear of the vehicle. Walter turned as well. Paige and Tim were in the far back seat, the liaison dabbing at the graze on the interloper's injury with a piece of cloth.

"Armstrong!" The French agent sounded furious. "Do you have trouble following orders?"

"No, but. . ." His usual genial expression disappeared. "I had to. . ."

"You had to follow orders," she cut him off. "You're lucky you are only wounded."

"I didn't have a choice, I had to save. . ."

"She was perfectly capable of saving herself." Walter's mind swam with images of Paige lying on the ground, riddled with bullets, and he had to give himself a shake to clear his brain of the disturbing images.

"You disobeyed direct orders and you could have got us all killed because of your poor judgement." Simone tilted her head as she scrutinized the intern. "Do you have trouble obeying all orders? Or just ones issued by female superiors?"

Tim's inability to respond immediately to her question was an answer in itself. "No, of course not," he muttered unconvincingly.

The Interpol agent spun back around and spoke to Cabe. "I cannot work with someone who can't obey his superiors because of their sex. The next time I work with Scorpion, Monsieur Armstrong will not be part of the mission."

Walter watched as Paige's mouth dropped open and Tim's face turned red. He knew it was wrong to be pleased by the interloper being reamed by the woman next to him, but he couldn't stop the smirk forming on his lips. Then he caught the furious glare Paige tossed in his direction before she placed her hand on the trainee's shoulder, patting it reassuringly as she smiled up at him. 

Simone was right. Emotions muddled up everything, leading to impaired decision making and inefficient results. Then why did Tim's poor choice to save Paige gnaw at his insides? He'd been tempted to do the same thing, letting his feelings override his common sense. If she had been shot, and he had done nothing to prevent it, well. . . He knew he could never live with himself if she came to harm because of him.

Inhaling deeply to dispel his morose thoughts, he caught a glimpse of the rearview mirror. The black Humvee was less than a city block behind them. "Uh, Cabe. . ." He pointed to the mirror, then turned to look out the back window.

"Dammit." The Homeland agent jerked the steering wheel violently to the left, scattering a group of pedestrians as the transport careened down the street before making a hard right at the next intersection.

"Oh my whiplash," moaned Toby as he fell against Sylvester as Gallo took another sharp corner. 

"Hang on, kids," growled Cabe, tromping on the gas pedal. Walter saw the traffic light in front of them turn from yellow to red before the transport plowed through it. They were almost clipped by the front bumper of a produce truck coming from the cross street. Everyone but the man behind the wheel spun around to watch the Humvee crash into the side of the truck, glass and metal flying everywhere.

Cabe glanced over at Walter. "You disabled the jamming software?" 

"Yes."

"Good, because I don't think we'll be welcome back here any time soon." With that, the Homeland agent executed another sudden turn, sending them all toppling against each other again. Simone fell against Walter, grabbing his upper thigh to steady herself. Lust shot through him, and he gulped, trying to avert his gaze from the soft hand resting so close to his. . .

The pressure lifted and he could breath again. Sliding his eyes to gaze at her face, he saw the secretive smile on the French woman's lips. He wondered if it had been an accident or if she had done it on purpose. Although why that mattered, he didn't know. The result had been the same. He didn't know if he could resist the temptation she was offering and it was twisting him up in knots inside.

A loud pop brought the transport to a shuddering stop. "Son of a bitch." Cabe jumped out of the vehicle. "Another God damn flat tire."

The rest of the team piled out of the transport. Walter did a 360, noting they had left the outskirts of the city and were now surrounded by the tangled jungle foliage. 

"And that was the spare," Happy declared. She squatted down to examine the shredded rubber. "Even if I had the necessary materials to repair it, the fix wouldn't last more than a few miles. It's too badly damaged." Standing back up, she added, "We're going to need a new tire."

"The airstrip is seventeen miles up the road. Cartagena is three miles that way." Cabe indicated the way they'd come. 

"It would be more efficient to walk back to the city and acquire a new tire," Walter declared, after calculating time and distance and factoring in the uphill grade of the road to the airport. He looked over at Sylvester, who nodded in agreement.

"All right then," said the Homeland agent. "Happy, we'll need you to make sure we get the correct replacement. And we're gonna need someone to speak Spanish. Simone?"

"Of course." She walked over to stand next to the older man.

"Tim, how's your arm?" asked Gallo.

"It's just a graze," the intern replied. "I'll be fine."

"You should have Toby take a look at it anyway. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." Walter noticed the interloper's face became red again, while Paige's eyes flashed angrily.

"I'll come with," he volunteered, not wanting to be stuck with the pair for who knew how long with only Toby and Sly as buffers. "I can help carry the tire back."

"Good idea, son." Cabe slapped him on the back. "Well, we're not getting any younger."

Happy allowed Toby to give her a hug and a kiss as he placed his hand on her stomach, whispering something into her ear. The mechanic slapped her hand on the shrink's abdomen as she smiled at him. Walter spun away from the happy couple, taking off toward the city. He had only gone a few paces when Simone came up beside him. He glanced over at her and her mouth curled knowingly. 

Then she reached out and took his hand. The unexpected contact nearly caused him to stumble head first to the ground. Regaining his balance, he looked over his shoulder. If he had thought Paige was irate before, her fury didn't even begin to compare with the expression of pure rage now marring her beautiful face.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the whole marriage-citizenship-divorce storyline was wrapped up too quickly. I mean why even bring it up at all if they weren't going to wring every last bit of humor and angst out of the situation. I feel cheated. So I've included Walter's naturalization ceremony in this chapter. I did a lot of research and even watched a ceremony on YouTube. If you haven't seen one, you should. It was very interesting.

Paige was fuming. How dare that French. . .woman. . . hold Walter's hand? Who the hell did she think she was? Did she have any idea how much trouble he had processing physical contact? She'd seen him almost fall flat on his face when Simone had touched him. But he hadn't let go. 

The image of them walking off, hand in hand, make her stomach churn. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she then returned to her efforts to stop Tim's wound from bleeding. 

"You gonna let me to take a look at that?" Paige glanced up sharply. She'd forgotten Toby and Sylvester had also stayed behind. "There should be a first aid kit under the seat," the shrink added as he bent over to search for it.

"Sure." She passed the red stained cloth over to the other man, who was opening the small metal box he'd found. 

"Yep, just a graze. Pretty deep though," said the doctor as he reaffirmed the ex-SEAL's self-diagnosis. "It's gonna hurt like hell for awhile. The bullet gouged out a good chunk of skin and exposed a lot of nerve endings."

Toby tended the trainee's wound as Sly used a handkerchief to blot the sweat from his forehead. "I hope they're not gone too long," he said. "I don't want to be still stuck out here when it gets dark."

The psychiatrist rolled his eyes as he wrapped gauze around Tim's biceps. "You big baby. This is about monkeys again, isn't it?"

"No. Okay, maybe. Yes."

"Well, if one tries to besmirch your honor, Timbo here can shoot it."

"I don't want them _dead_ ," the human calculator declared. "I just want them to stay away from me."

"I'm not shooting monkeys," Tim stated resolutely. 

Toby grinned mischievously. "Of course not. There. . ." He patted the intern's arm. "All done." Swiveling in his seat, he addressed Paige. "Let me see your hands."

"My hands?" She lifted them into the air, gasping when she noticed they were scraped and oozing.

"Oh, damn, that must have happened when you fell," commented Tim. 

"I didn't even. . . They don't even hurt." A statement which quickly became a lie as they starting stinging, causing her to hiss between her teeth.

"You were so pumped up full of adrenalin. . .and anger, the pain didn't register until now. How do your knees feel?" asked Toby.

Paige grimaced. "The same." Looking down at her leggings, she saw rips exposing bloody abrasions on both knees. "Wait. . . What do you mean by anger? I wasn't angry, I was scared."

"Uh hmm. . ." said the shrink absently as he applied an antibacterial ointment to her palms. "So what frightened you about Walter and Simone walking hand in hand off into the sunset?"

Her mouth dropped open. Damn Toby and his astute observations anyway. "That doesn't scare me," she said in what she hoped was a convincing manner. "And it certainly doesn't make me angry. Walter can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants."

The psychiatrist shook his head. "Just keep telling yourself that."

"Why don't you shut your mouth?" demanded Tim hotly. "Just because we need medical attention, doesn't mean we agreed to be psychoanalyzed too."

"Okay, okay." Toby tossed the ointment tube into the ex-SEAL's lap. "Here, you can rub this on her knees. You obviously don't need me anymore."

As Tim rubbed the antibiotic onto her knees, a deep guttural noise came from about 100 yards away. "What the hell was that?" Paige had never heard anything so unnerving in her life.

"Howler monkey," whispered Sly, his face white with terror. "On second thought, maybe I do want Tim to shoot it."

"I'm not shooting monkeys," the trainee repeated a bit more forcefully this time.

Toby slouched down in his seat and pulled his fedora over his eyes. "I'm going to take a nap," he announced. "Maybe by the time I wake up, this nightmare of a mission will be over."

Paige closed her eyes and wished for the same thing.

_____

It was a little after two Friday morning before their plane took off for the ten hour trip back to Los Angeles. Procuring another tire had proved difficult, it had taken several hours to track one down. Once the team eventually reached the airstrip, they'd had to search for their pilot, who had gone out carousing when they hadn't shown up during the agreed upon departure window. Sobering him up enough to fly had wasted even more time.

"It's 12:15," said Cabe, glancing at his watch as they landed at the Van Nuys airport. "We can still make your naturalization ceremony if we hustle," he added as he and Walter as they stepped onto the tarmac.

Walter had forgotten all about his swearing in as a new citizen scheduled for that afternoon at one thirty. He'd spent the entire flight trying to sleep and failing miserably. Conflicting images of Paige and Simone kept floating through his mind, alternately making him ache or confused. 

"Sure," he grunted in reply to the older man before remembering two important things. "I promised Ralph he could be there. And I need my documentation and it's back at headquarters."

"Man, we'll be cutting it pretty close." Cabe shook his head. "We'll take my SUV and use my lights to get us through traffic."

The Homeland agent took them for another wild ride, this time through the Greater Los Angeles area, picking up Ralph from his school, swinging by the garage to grab Walter's paper work before finally parking illegally in front of the Convention Center. 

"One twenty-two," Gallo said as the rest of the team piled out of his vehicle. "Walter. . ."

But he didn't stick around for the rest of his mentor's sentence, taking off in a sprint for the entrance. Thankfully there was a board in the lobby, directing people to the rooms they needed. And, of course, the one he wanted was on the opposite side of the building. He'd only hesitated for a second before he commenced running again down the concourse.

Out of breath, he bend forward, grasping his knees when he came to a halt outside the exhibit hall. "W-Walt. . .er O'Brien. . ." he gasped out to the uniformed woman with a clipboard. 

The woman glanced at the list then at him. He knew he looked like hell. He hadn't slept for over 48 hours, his clothing was dirty and torn, and to be honest, he stank. "Mr O'Brien, your papers please" she said, before pointing at the man on the opposite side of the doorway, who was holding a magnetometer.

Walter handed her his file then allowed himself to be scanned. The woman's eyebrows shot up as she read over his documents. He guessed an executive order from the POTUS granting citizenship wasn't something she saw everyday. "Any guests?" the man asked when he had finished.

He nodded. "They should be coming." Looking over his shoulder, he saw the rest of the team approaching.

"Congratulations," the woman said as she handed him a large white envelope then opened the door to a cavernous room filled with people from all over the world..

"Thanks," he mumbled as he stepped inside. Overwhelmed by the crowd and its noise, he had to shuffle his way to the middle of a row of chairs in order to find an empty seat. 

His butt had barely touched the cold metal when a booming voice announced, "Please stand for the National Anthem of the United States of America." Walter listened as the song was played over the room's PA system, finding himself singing along by the time it ended.

A man strode up to the podium they were all facing. "Good afternoon," he greeted them. "Today we have five thousand and one candidates from eighty nations who will become citizens of the United States of America. And without further ado, I ask the candidates to please repeat after me. . . 

"I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity. . ." Walter chanted the rest of the words along with everyone else. ". . .that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God."

His voice cracked on the last few words as moisture gathered in his eyes. He'd never believed he was any more a citizen of Ireland than he was of any other country. Borders were just arbitrary lines drawn by the conquerors or by freak geographical phenomenons. But now, something swelled inside of him proving him wrong. He was now a citizen of the country where he'd lived over half his life. It felt different somehow, like he belonged.

The man said a few congratulatory words then led everyone in a pledge of allegiance. Then several people seated at tables on either side of the podium starting calling out names in alphabetical order. Figuring he had a few minutes before they reached the O's, he searched the enormous room for his friends.

The first one he found was Paige. She was smiling, and for a second he thought it was directed at him. Then she lifted her face as Tim planted a kiss on her cheek. His pride of becoming a citizen dissipated in an instant, paling into insignificance by the realization he would never have the woman he loved in his life. Not in the way he wanted her to be.

Averting his eyes, he stared forward, waiting for his name to be called so he could receive his Certificate of Naturalization.

_____

About an hour later, a weary Team Scorpion trooped into the garage. Toby hurried over to his desk, snatching the thick file sitting atop his inbox. "Come on, Hap. We gotta get you divorced."

"What's the hurry?" ask Cabe as he went over to the coffee pot and sniffed its contents before setting it back down with a grimace. "Can't it wait until Monday?" 

"If what you said is correct, that it takes six months, we can't waste another second," said the psychiatrist. "Courthouse closes in a couple hours. So smell ya later. And I mean that literally. We all could use a shower."

The shrink and the mechanic headed toward the door. "Wait," said Paige. "We should do something later. . . You know to celebrate. . ."

"Celebrate what exactly?" asked Tim. "That we somehow managed to salvage another mission after royally screw. . ."

"No," she replied, cutting off his negative remark. "No, I mean. . ."

"Simone and I have to head back to Homeland for debriefing," announced Cabe before she could finish. "That might take a few hours."

"Ralph and I are already missing a panel at the comic book convention," Sylvester chimed in. "Thank God, it's not the Super Fun Guy one later this evening."

"We have dinner reservations for seven," Tim said as he moved closer to her. "And it's a three hour drive to Morro Bay."

Paige looked around in exasperation. Walter had just become a US citizen, and nobody cared. "Fine." She threw up her hands, glaring at Toby and Happy who both shrugged before leaving the garage. 

She made arrangements to drive Sly and Ralph to the human calculator's apartment so he could shower and change then take them to the convention. "You have enough clean underwear for the weekend?" she asked her son.

"Mom. . ." The boy genius rolled his eyes, which she took as a yes, before he and Sylvester started to walk out. The two agents headed for the door as well.

"Simone." Paige's attention was drawn away from her conversation with Tim, who was telling her he'd pick up her at her place in a couple of hours when Walter called out to the French woman. 

"I-I was w-wondering if you w-would like to have dinner w-with me tonight?" the genius stammered as he jammed his hands in his pockets, his eyes darting between the floor and the French woman's face.

The Interpol agent smiled and placed her hand on Walter's arm. "I'd like that."

"I'll pick you up at s-seven?"

"Perfect. I'm at the same hotel as before. You remember, yes?"

"I remember." The pleased grin on Walter's face made Paige's stomach so lurch violently she took a step toward the bathroom. Oh, God, there had been something between him and Simone. Had he slept with her? Two minutes ago she would have bet everything she owned he hadn't. But now. . . Oh, God.

"I will see you at seven then," said the French agent. Leaning forward, she kissed Walter on the cheek

"Hey." Tim's concerned voice interrupted her distressing thoughts. "You okay? You're like, hyperventilating or something."

"I'm fine," she lied. She had to stop thinking about Walter and focus on the man she'd be spending the weekend with. The man she was supposed to be excited about sleeping with. 

"We need to get going," the trainee said before adding snidely as he raised his voice, "I've double checked our reservations and made sure the restaurant I've booked for dinner has passed all its health regulations."

Paige winced at the venom in Tim's words. She glanced wildly at Walter, who was watching as Simone and Cabe strode toward the exit as if he hadn't heard what the intern had said. He was obviously too busy checking out the Interpol agent's ass in her tight slacks.

"You coming?" asked Tim, nodding toward the door. "Sly and Ralph are waiting."

"Yeah, give me a minute." She gestured toward her desk.

"Sure." He flashed her a dazzling smile before turning and heading out of the garage. Paige swore she heard a ‘ting' as light gleamed off his brilliantly white teeth. Wondering if she was going crazy, she shook her head.

She waited until he was gone before she walked toward Walter. "Uh, congratulations. . . Again," she said. "So. . .are you. . .?" She swallowed nervously, her question sticking in her throat. It was none of her business anyway. She just wished she could believe that.

"Uh. . .thanks. . ." He stared at her for a moment with the look of awe in his dark eyes which always made her flutter inside. Then a mask of indifference slid over his handsome features. "You'd better go. You don't want to keep Tim waiting."

"No, I guess I don't." She went back to grab her purse. "Well, have a nice weekend."

"Yeah, you too," he grunted before spinning away and trotting up the stairs to his loft without a backward glance.. 

Paige just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry until she ran out of tears. She's done this to him. Made him human, made him feel things he didn't want to feel, then broke his heart. 

And now he was going to console himself with a beautiful French woman who could have probably taught Mata Hari a few tricks. And she had no one to blame but herself.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - At the end of this chapter there is a sex scene you may not want to read. And I'm a little worried I may have crossed a line, even though I've been assured I have not. Some people may see it differently and I'm totally prepared to be flamed. But remember, you were warned.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Tim as he and Paige drove north along the Pacific Coast Highway. "You've hardly said a word since we've left Los Angeles."

Paige jerked awake at the sound of his voice. She'd been resting her head against the car window, half asleep, her unguarded thoughts drifting to when she and Walter had been in the torpedo tube, wondering if he was as big as he seemed when he'd been pressed up against her. Desire throbbed low in her belly, and she squirmed in her seat as her underwear grew damp and her face grew warm. Oh, God. Sneaking a glance at the man beside her, she was relieved he apparently hadn't noticed. 

"I'm fine," she lied, sitting up straighter. "Just tired. It's been a crazy few days."

"True enough. I've really been looking forward to this weekend." The ex-SEAL reached over and rubbed her thigh. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I've noticed you've been kinda moody lately. Aunt Flo hasn't come to visit, has she?"

She snapped her head around to gape at him. "How-how do you know about. . .Aunt Flo?" 

"Four older sisters, remember?" Tim grinned knowingly. "So. . .?"

"No!" she said louder than she meant to. _Oh, God_. She averted her eyes, leaning on the side window again. 

He squeezed her leg before putting his hand back on the steering wheel. "Thank goodness," he murmured low enough she didn't think she was supposed to hear the relief in his tone.

A few miles down the road, he cleared his throat. "So, we haven't talked about protection."

"Protection? Protection from what?" Her mind had been wandering again,, brooding thoughts of Walter back to the garage getting ready for his date with the French woman. Would he wear a suit and tie? Hopefully not his red tie, that one was her favorite. She hated the idea of him wearing it on a date with someone else. 

"Yeah, protection," he said, wagging his eyebrows. "You know. . ."

"Oh, God." Wishing the earth would open up and swallow her into oblivion, she groaned inwardly as she realized just how eager he was to sleep with her. 

"Well, yeah, I brought plenty." The trainee chuckled. "I probably should have offered some to Walter. He and Simone really hit it off, and I don't think she's going to take no for an answer. It's about time he moved on with someone else." He laughed again. "Although she's probably more than he can handle. . ."

His insults about Walter's sexual prowess (or lack thereof) faded into nothingness as she couldn't catch her breath. She'd thought it had just been her irrational jealousy, which she now recognized for what it was. The fact other people had also noticed the chemistry between the genius and the French agent, had made it all too real.

Her stomach churned violently at the thought of the other couple making love, and she thought she was going to be sick. She must have made a noise of distress, because Tim glanced over at her, his face full of worry.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, touching her thigh again. 

"I'm fine," she lied again, turning to stare out the window at the passing scenery.

_____

"This way, Mr O'Brien, madam." The hostess led Walter and Simone to the table he'd reserved. After helping his companion with her chair, Walter sat down across from her.

She wore her hair up into some sort of knot on top of her head, exposing her slender neck. Her dress was black, backless, and baring the tops of her breasts. It was short, too, showing off her long, shapely legs. He was surprised he hadn't gotten into an accident on the way to the restaurant.

"Would you like to see the wine menu, sir?" A older man, his clothing designating him as part of Escala's staff, holding a burgundy leather folder toward him. Walter froze. He didn't drink. But he knew Simone did. And he knew nothing about wine except the science behind the making of it. Anything else. . . he had no clue. 

Simone waved away the menu. "I'll have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, please." 

"A mineral water. . .please," Walter mumbled.

"Very good," said the sommelier in a superior tone as he bowed and departed. 

"I-I'm sorry." He'd been so stupid. He should have selected a less sophisticated establishment, somewhere he hadn't once planned to take Paige.

Simone reached over and patted his hand. "Walter, it's all right. I know you don't drink." Looking him up and down, she added, "I have to admire your. . .resolve."

"I-It's not like I've n-never tried it before." His hand twitched under hers, simultaneously unnerved and stirred by the contact. "It impairs brain function, causes diseases of the heart, liver, and stomach, it's the third leading cause of death in the country, leads to violence and domestic abuse, and. . ." 

He snapped his mouth shut, dropping his gaze to the tablecloth as he realized he was rambling, spewing out facts and figures unnecessarily defending his decision to avoid alcohol. "Sorry," he muttered.

"You don't have to be nervous." She lifted her hand from his and he could breathe again. 

"I can't help it. You're a beautiful woman and. . ." He flicked his eyes up to meet hers. "You make me nervous." His lips twisted up into what he hoped was an apologetic grin.

"Good," she said, smiling back at him. "I haven't lost my touch then." She chuckled huskily.

He bit out a short laugh, a little of his anxiety easing. He was saved from replying as a waiter brought them their drinks then took their order. 

As they were eating their entrée, something warm and solid touched his right calf. Walter nearly jumped out of his chair as it traveled upward, his fork clattering on the edge of his plate. Glancing over at Simone, he noticed her twitching lips, betraying her otherwise bland expression.

"Sorry," she said, withdrawing her foot.

"No, it's okay," he replied after he'd caught his breath. "I-I w-wasn't expecting. . ." Picking up his dropped utensil, he took another bite of his meal, which tasted like sawdust; which, thanks to Happy, he'd unfortunately knew how it tasted. 

All through dinner, he'd been wavering on whether he should engage in intercourse with Simone. He couldn't get Paige out of his mind, how she had felt against him when they'd been hiding on the submarine, how she had kissed him. . . It had all been fake though. Why else would she still go off with the interloper and have sex with him, if that kiss had meant anything to her? 

His mental tug of war was still ongoing in the middle of dessert when his phone vibrated. Sliding it out of his pocket, he saw it was a text from the one person he was failing spectacularly to forget. As he was about to ignore it, he changed his mind, thinking it might be something important, and opened it. 

It was a picture of Paige and Tim, their heads together and smiling broadly. Underneath was a message addressed to Ralph. _Were having gr8 time. Hope u r 2. Love Mom & Tim_. 

Walter just stared at the taunting photo. Why had he received it? Obviously Ralph was the only one who it should have been sent to. Had it been an accident or had it been deliberate? 

An ache radiated through his body as he deleted both the picture and the text. Paige was going to have sex with Tim. She had moved on, to a place so far out of his reach he knew now he would never get her back. 

The waiter came by with the check and Walter paid it, leaving a generous tip. He stood up as did Simone, who reached out and took his hand as they exited the restaurant. Once they were outside, she turned to him, touching her mouth to his, gently at first before licking open the seam of his lips and enticingly entwining her tongue with his.

"So have you decided?" she asked as she pulled back, and he wondered if his quandary had been so apparent. "Are we going to take this celebration back to my hotel?"

He smiled as he recognized her words, they were the same ones she'd used that night two years ago. Dipping his eyes downward as he took a deep breath, he lifted his gaze up to her beautiful face, trembling at the impact his answer would have on his life.

"Yes."

_____

"I'm just saying, the minions aren't that funny," Tim stated as he unlocked the door to their overly frilly room. Paige had been repelled by all the ruffles and lace and fussy knickknacks when they'd first arrived. And the most awful thing of all was the bed. There were so many pillows on it, they took up over half its space. She lied, of course, when Tim had asked if she liked it. He said he'd done a lot of research and knew she would just love it.

"Yes, they are," she replied, weary of the discussion as she walked inside, tossing her purse on the dresser before glancing at the alarm clock which read ten thirty two. "You just don't get them."

Tim closed the door, then locked it. "Yeah, but I get you." Before she even had time to react, he'd pressed her back against door and stuck his tongue between her lips. "God, I've wanted you since the moment we met," he whispered into her ear before lowering his mouth and sucking on her throat.

Thinking of how she hadn't received a hickey since middle school, she tried to squirm away but it only seemed to encourage him. He clumsily fondled her breasts as he sloppily licked his way down her neck. 

"Tim," she murmured, deciding to take control of the situation, mashing her lips to his, desperately hoping for a twinge or shudder or anything beside the emptiness consuming her. She let him maul her, her mind wandering to Walter, remembering how just the touch of his hand on her back had made her wet with anticipation. 

Shaking away her wayward thoughts, she slipped her hands up Tim's shoulders to the back of his neck. Her fingers, expecting to thread themselves into soft dark curls, instead scraped themselves on short blond stubble. She barely had time to register her disappointment as Tim began rubbing himself against her, leaving another love bite on her neck.

Then she was falling backward, landing on the too soft mattress, sending most of the massive pile of pillows to the floor. The ex-SEAL pounced atop her before she could react, tearing at the top of her dress, and slobbering on her chest. After a couple of minutes, he lifted the hem of her dress, sliding off her panties. He then peeled off his tight t-shirt and threw it across the room, where it landed on a lampshade.

"Tim. . ." She wanted to tell him to slow down, they had all night, she wasn't ready. But he kissed her again, cutting off her words. 

She heard him unbuckle and unzip his trousers, listened as he tore open a package. Fumbling as he put on its contents, he lifted his mouth from hers for a moment,.

"Tim. . . Tim. . . Wa. . ." He interrupted her as he stuck his tongue into her mouth. Panting for air, she could have sworn he was an octopus, his hands grasping and squeezing her everywhere at once. 

"Oh baby, you're so hot. I love you so much." He nudged her legs apart and placed himself between them.

"Tim. . ." His name turned into a gasp of pain as he thrust himself inside her, the latex of his condom biting into her tender flesh. She hadn't had sex for nearly ten years but she knew right away something was wrong. He was grunting with pleasure as he rocked his hips back and forth. Yet she felt nothing but a unpleasant poking sensation near her entrance. 

Oh, God, did he have a really small penis? She had to bite her lip to stop herself from giggling as the nickname ‘Tiny Tim' crossed her mind. If what she'd felt in the torpedo bay was anything to go by, Walter's was much bigger than what the macho ex-SEAL was currently prodding her with. 

"Oh, baby, yeah." Tim let out a loud moan, snapping her out of her wishful thinking, his body convulsing atop hers. He pulled out, shucking off the condom, then slapped her on the hip. "You were great, babe," he mumbled before rolling off her and onto his back. Within seconds, he was snoring.

Paige laid there in shock. She'd just had the worst sex in her life, even more disappointing than when she lost her virginity in the back seat of a Toyota Corolla in high school. And although she hadn't always orgasmed with Drew, at least he'd tried to satisfy her in other ways. Tim hadn't even made the effort, selfishly taking his own pleasure, sadly believing she'd gotten hers as well. 

Oh, God what had she done? She sat up, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed. Dropping her face into her hands, Paige wiped at her tears. She'd just had terrible sex with a man she didn't love while the man she did love was probably having the best sex of his life with a French femme fatale. 

Rising from the mattress, she tore off what was left of her dress, stuffing it into a wastebasket. She put on a blouse and jeans from her suitcase before tossing the rest of her scattered belongings back inside. Tim was still lying on his back, making what sounded like pig snorts. 

She snatched up her purse and found her phone, intending to call for a ride back to Los Angeles, when she noticed a text had been sent. Not remembering doing so, she opened it, immediately recognizing the photo Tim had her take at dinner. It had been sent to Ralph, and, as she discovered when she examined it closely, had also been sent to Walter. 

Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. The son of a bitch had ‘borrowed' her phone when she'd gone to the bathroom, deliberately sending the taunting picture to the genius. She was tempted to strangle him as he slept, only the thought of never seeing her son again preventing her from giving in to her impulse.

Glancing at the clock again, she noted it now said ten forty-one. She couldn't believe her whole world had turned upside down in less than ten minutes. With an angry shake of her head, she gathered her luggage and quietly slipped out of the room.


	8. Chapter Seven

By the time they had reached the hallway outside Simone's room, Walter thought he was having a seizure of some sort. His heart was beating erratically, he was practically hyperventilating, his dinner sat in his gut like a lump of lead, and his legs wobbled as if they were made of gelatin. 

He was on the precipice of a momentous milestone. One he'd put off for far too long. He'd always wondered what all the fuss was about, but not really interested in finding out. . .until he'd met Paige. But now he would never. . .not with her anyway. Visibly shaking, he watched as Simone unlocked her door before opening it wide.

"Come in," she invited, a slight purr in her voice. "Why don't you sit down and relax." She indicated a couch with embroidered pillows at either end. "I'll be back in just a moment."

Walter sat down on the proffered sofa, loosening his tie. He did need to relax, he just didn't know if he could. The thought of what he was about to do caused a wave of panic to sweep over him, and he broke out into a sweat. Jumping to his feet, he removed his jacket, placing it neatly over the arm of the couch, then looped his neckwear over his head and placed on top of the jacket.

He'd been about to reseat himself when the bedroom door opened and Simone walked toward him. She was wearing a red robe, probably silk by the look of it. It hit her mid-thigh and it was loosely belted, leaving a plunging vee of a neck line. He was certain she was naked underneath it.

Gulping uneasily, he then breathed in through his mouth before deliberately exhaling. Warmth spread all over his body before settling itself in one location. _Oh boy_. 

She continued to move closer, smiling as she paused approximately a foot away. Taking a step forward, he placed his fingertips on her upper arms. He'd been right, her robe was silk. His hands glided up the smooth fabric to her shoulders. He leaned toward her, her breath mingling with his. A fraction of an inch (3/16ths to be exact) separated their lips.

Walter pressed his mouth to hers, lingering for several seconds before deepening the kiss, entangling his tongue with hers. The taste of her engulfed his senses in a pleasantly stimulating manner. Unbidden comparisons to a certain liaison sprang to mind, which he fought to clear by sliding his arms around Simone, drawing her body against his.

She ran her hands up and down his back before moving them to his chest. He continued to kiss her as she flicked open the buttons of his shirt before pushing the garment off his shoulders. His undershirt soon followed.

"Very nice," she said as she gazed at his bare chest. His body surged with need, yet he involuntarily flinched when she ran her fingers over his muscles. "Relax, _mon beau_ ," she murmured as she embraced him, her robe slipping open as its sash came undone. 

The skin on skin contact nearly short-circuited his brain as her lips met his. Walter began trembling with either lust or fear or perhaps a little of both. He didn't know; his mind, his body, everything was threatening to shut down as his senses began to overload. 

"What's wrong?" asked Simone, her voice gentle, like she was speaking to a child. Which, according to Toby's measure of manhood, he still was.

"I've never done this before," he blurted out, staring at the floor as his face grew hot. Silence filled the room, and he darted a glance at her. She'd taken a step back, retying her belt as she gazed at him, confusion on her lovely face.

"Are you saying you are a _vierge_? A virgin?" He nodded. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. "How is this possible? Are women in America blind and stupid?"

"No. . .it's m-me. . . I'm. . .d-d-different," he confessed, flicking his eyes between hers and the rug. "I'm n-not n-normal."

Simone scrutinized him, her eyes lingering over his naked chest and the front of his trousers. "You look normal to me," she declared. She added with a grin, "Rather above normal, I would say."

Heat consumed him from head to toe as he tapped his temple. "No, I'm not n-normal here," he said. "My brain doesn't process. . .l-like most people. Sights, sounds. . .t-touch. . . They can easily overwhelmed me."

"Walter, we can take this as slow. . .or as fast. . .as you want," she replied. "We have all night." Letting go of his hand, she took a step back. "You can even leave if you want. I would understand."

"Okay," he mumbled, mesmerized by the kindness in her eyes. For a split second, he contemplated leaving. But where would he go, what would he do? Go back to the garage and spend the rest of the evening alone? Fantasize about being with Paige while he. . . 

No, he had to forget her, scolding himself for what seemed like the millionth time. She was with Tim now, probably doing unthinkable things with the interloper at that very moment. He'd be a fool to throw away the undemanding sexual initiation Simone was offering because of a woman who would never love him for being who he was. 

He moved forward, taking one end of her belt in his hand and giving it a gentle tug. It unknotted itself, her robe falling open, revealing her nude body. He stared, his breath coming in shallow pants, as he observed her womanly curves. 

"Maybe we should take this into the bedroom?" Simone suggested with a smile.

"Okay." She took his hand again and led him into the adjoining room. A cold sweat swamped over him when he saw the bed, which seemed to dominate the room. She stood at the foot of it, shifting her shoulders so her robe dropped to the floor. 

Then her hand was at the waist of his trousers, and he instinctively recoiled. "Sorry," he said, placing his hand on hers. "I'd better d-do this. . ." 

"If you think it best." She was still smiling, but even he could see the frustration on her face. She'd been more than patient and he didn't want to push her generosity to its limits. He'd never been this far before; it was, he thought ruefully, virgin territory for him. 

After hurriedly removing the rest of his clothing except for his boxers, he approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders. Letting his fingers glide down her arms, he kissed her again, moaning as their tongues entwined. "I want you," he whispered into her ear, unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"Good, I want you, too," she murmured before nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. She sat down then eased herself backward onto the bed, bringing him down on top of her. Their lips met as she caressed her way down his back. 

As he moved his mouth down her throat, he was undecided on the amount of foreplay necessary to guarantee a satisfactory outcome for the both of them. His was almost a foregone conclusion, hers not so much. He could feel her wetness through the fabric of his underwear as she rubbed herself against him, moaning softly as he cupped her breasts before brushing his thumbs over their hard tips. 

His lips were poised less than an eight of an inch above her nipple when she slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders, lightly grazing her nails against his skin before moving up the sides of his neck and threading her fingers into his hair.

Walter froze as memories of Paige flooded his brain. The first time they had kissed in the garage, the more recent encounter on the submarine. He recalled every detail; her fingers entangled in his hair, the softness of her body pressed to his, how she'd tasted, her scent of lavender, how much he'd wanted her. . . 

With a groan, he rolled off of Simone, sitting up on the edge of the mattress, burying his face in his hands. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, shrinking away as she touched his back. "I can't. . . I though I could d-do this But I-I can't. I-I'm sorry."

"Walter." He heard the exasperation in her tone and he couldn't blame her for being upset with him. He'd led her on, lied to her and himself, believing he could engage in such an intimate activity with someone other than the woman he loved. 

"There's someone. . ."

"Paige. I know." He jerked his head up in shock, wondering how she knew. "But she's with that other man, Tim, is she not?"

"Yes, but this feels like I'm b-betraying her. I-I can't. . ." He kept his gaze directed at the floor. "I'm sorry." 

"She means that much to you?" she asked. He recognized the disbelief in her question. It was true, his devotion to her made no sense, especially now she was with the interloper. But as Cabe had once said, ‘the heart wants what the heart wants.'

"She's the love of my life."

He looked up as Simone sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I cannot change your mind, can I?" Walter shook his head. "She doesn't know how lucky she is," she said as she scooped her robe from the floor and put it back on. 

He realized he was virtually undressed and glanced about for his clothing. "I sh-should go," he declared as he got to his feet.

She placed her hand on his arm. "No, it's late and you must be exhausted," she said, pointing to the other room of her suite. "The sofa in there pulls out into a bed, you can sleep there. No funny business, I promise." Her smile was sad. He knew he'd disappointed her. But he'd be even more disappointed with himself if he'd gone through with it. 

Glancing at his watch, he noted it was nineteen minutes to eleven. Much earlier than when he usually retired for the night, but then he hadn't slept for more than a few minutes in the past seventy-two hours. He _was_ exhausted. And, as he watched his hands shake as he reached for his clothes, too emotionally upset to be behind the wheel of a car. "Okay," he agreed, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. Although if he was, it wouldn't be as monumental as the one he'd almost made.

_____

Paige arrived at her apartment a little after one-thirty in the morning, using Tim's Lyft account to pay for the 200 mile ride back to Los Angeles. She'd tried to sleep but it escaped her as her mind kept replaying the sordid scene in the overly frilly room over and over again. Twice she had to have the driver stop so she could throw up alongside the road.

She hadn't said no. She hadn't tried to stop him. She'd even participated. . .to a point. Then why did she feel so cheap and dirty? And numb. . . Why did she feel so numb? 

Unlocking the door to her condo and going inside, she set down her belongs and headed straight for the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she turned on the shower and stepped under the spray of water, not waiting to adjust the temperature. 

The tears began to flow at the hot water scalded her, pain replacing the deadness inside her. She'd made such a mess of everything. She should have waited. Waited to sleep with Tim. Waited for Walter to learn how to become more social. Waited for him to find his way to her. Oh, God, she should have waited for Walter to love her as much as she loved him. 

She had no idea how long she stood there with her head resting against the tile wall, crying until she couldn't cry anymore, until the water had turned to ice. Turning the knobs, she finally stepped out, finding a towel to wrap around her violently shivering body. 

Once inside her bedroom, she sat on the end of her bed, rocking herself as the disturbing images flashed through her head of Tim mauling her, pinning her to the bed, thrusting against her. . . She was still tender, the friction from his condom causing more damage than anything else. 

Oh, God, what if the condom had broke? She was on birth control pills. The odds she'd gotten pregnant were probably very low. But. . . But that was a chance she wasn't willing to take. With a renewed determination, she got dressed, grabbed her purse, and left her apartment. A twenty-four hour pharmacy was located only a few miles away. 

On her way there, she wondered if Tim would come looking for her. Of course he would. He was an insensitive pig who thought he was a great lover. And she'd used his Lyft account, so he would know she had gone back to her condo. She couldn't go back there, she'd given him a key. She groaned at her own stupidity . 

After she had purchased the necessary pill and a bottle of water, she drove around aimlessly, surprising herself as she pulled up in front of the garage. There was the chance Tim would look for her here as well. But so far he hadn't tried to make contact with her, her phone had been silent. He still must be sleeping from his ‘exertions', she thought, rolling her eyes. Praying he wouldn't even know she's left until morning, she got out of her vehicle. 

The building looked deserted. No cars, not even Walter's, were parked outside. Hoping against hope he'd brought his Malibu inside, she let herself into the garage. 

"Walter?" she called out, glancing around the ground floor. There was no sign of his car as silence greeted her. She didn't know why she expected an answer. She knew where he was, and it wasn't up in his loft, all tucked up alone in his bed. He was having sex with Simone. More than likely for the first time in his life. 

She burst into tears at the thought. 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Heavy Angst Ahead in this chapter and the next. How heavy is it? I made myself cry as I wrote it some of it.

Loud clanking and the whine of an electric motor woke Paige. For a moment she forgot where she was before remembering crying herself to sleep on Walter's bed. Opening her eyes, she saw it was light outside. Rain pattered on the garage roof.

Walter! He must be back and parking his car inside to keep it dry. She hoped she'd left enough room. She'd brought hers inside, still worried Tim would try to track her down. Thinking she might need to move it, she hopped off the mattress before dashing into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, avoided glancing in the mirror over the sink at her red puffy eyes framed with dark purple shadows. She finger combed her hair as best she could before hurrying to the stairs.

Paige came to a halt half way down the staircase as she watched Happy and Toby slide a metal ramp from the back of the mechanic's truck. After they'd placed it on the tailgate, they walked over to where Happy had parked her motorcycle. 

Disappointment filled her as her vision blurred. It wasn't Walter. He was probably still at the hotel with Simone, sleeping next to the French woman or else. . . A whimper escaped her lips at the picture of a drowsy Walter kissing and touching and. . . She spun around, intending to go back to hiding in the loft.

"And what do we have here?" Toby's mocking voice stopped her before she could take a step. "What are you doing here so early on a Saturday morning, Ms Dineen? I thought you and Mr Armstrong were leaving last night for your romantic getaway. Did you have a change of plans?" 

Twirling back around, Paige completed her journey down the stairs, pausing at the bottom for a second before making her way to her desk. "It's none of your business, Toby." She began pulling open drawers, grabbing whatever was on top, tossing it on her desktop, then slamming them shut. "What are you two doing here so early?"

"Picking up my bike," said Happy as she fiddled with some gadget on its handlebars. "I'm selling it. Got a buyer coming over to look at it this afternoon."

"Selling it?" Paige asked incredulously as she closed the drawer she'd just opened. "You've worked for years restoring that bike. Why would you sell it?"

"Need the money. Plus I won't be riding for awhile" The mechanic shrugged nonchalantly but Paige could see the sadness in the other woman's expression. Happy pushed the motorcycle to the end of the ramp. "Dammit, Doc, come help me get this loaded up."

"Just a minute, sweetie dear," the shrink replied before turning his attention back to Paige. "What did you do with Timothy?" He smirked smugly. "Although I already know the answer to that one."

She ignored his innuendo. "Did you file the divorce papers?" she asked Happy.

Toby shook a finger at her. "Uh uh uh. We answered one of your questions. Now you have to answer one of ours. Ow, okay, mine," he added as Happy slugged his arm.

"Fine." Paige started gathering up the items on her desk. "There was a slight change of plans. And I forgot to pack this stuff yesterday."

"You need a ruler, a roll of stamps, and a manila file for a romantic weekend?" It was the shrink's turn to be skeptical. "What kind of kinky sex are you into that you'd need office supplies?" His suspicious expression turned to amusement and he leaned toward Happy. "Makes me wonder what the ruler is for," he said out of the side of his mouth as he gently nudged the other woman's arm.

Oh, God. A wave of heat flushed through Paige from head to toe. Unpleasant memories of Tim and his inadequate equipment sprang into her mind and she had to sit down. She wished they would just leave and let her wallow in her self-inflicted misery.

"Yeah, I filed the papers," declared Happy. "Cabe was right. A divorce takes six months."

"And baby Quintis will be here before that," Toby stated bitterly.

"Can't you go to Mexico or Nevada or somewhere for a quickie divorce?" 

"Nope," the psychiatrist replied. "Not anymore. They all have residency requirements now. The only options left are the Dominican Republic and Guam. Getting a divorce in Guam would be the best route because it's recognized in all fifty states."

"Guam?" Were they seriously considering getting a divorce in Guam? Had they totally lost their minds? Or was she still asleep and this was all a crazy dream? She had to talk them out of this insanity.

"You guys can't just go to Guam," she began, "What if we need you for a case?"

"Settle down, Dineen, we're not going to Guam." Happy's voice cracked and Paige could see tears gathering in her eyes. "We don't have the money for starters. I just want to be married to the father of my child before it's born. Is that too much to ask?"

"It's just a piece of paper," Paige said, waving her hand dismissively. "It doesn't mean you're less of a family without it."

"Like you and Drew?" asked Toby with a sneer.

"Being married to him wouldn't have made him stay." Paige sighed wearily. "It would have only made things worse."

"You know," the shrink said as he glanced over at Happy. "Maybe Walter could lend us the money. It's his fault we're in this predicament in the first place. Ten days in sunny Guam and he'd be a free man. . .and you'd be a free woman." He tried to put his arms around but she lifted her knee and he backed off.

Paige shook her head as she got to her feet. "Walter would never agree to that."

"Walter can't deny us time off," the psychiatrist contradicted before grinning at Happy. "Hey, maybe we should stick around until he gets back and spring our idea on him. Getting laid should put him in a good mood." Toby waggled his eyebrows.

Her stomach lurched at the reminder Walter was with Simone. Her eyes grew damp and she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to stop herself from shaking. "Fine," she said, plopping back down in her chair. "Don't cry to me when he tells you no."

"We won't." The shrink threw up his hands before turning to Happy. "Let's get you loaded up, honey pie."

"About time, dumbass," the mechanic grumbled as she lined up her motorcycle onto the ramp..

Paige stared at them as they secured the bike into the back of Happy's truck, finally looking away with a sigh. Thinking she may as well do some paperwork while she was there, she grabbed a case file from her inbox. But before she could open the folder, the door creaked open and Walter stepped inside.

"Woo-hoo-hoo, look who's doing the walk of shame this morning," announced Toby. 

Paige watched as Walter's face turned crimson. He had a serious case of bed head with his hair sticking up in odd places. His shirt has untucked, the buttons were done up incorrectly, he'd missed some of them completely. Dark burgundy lipstick stained the collar and there were smears of the same color on his neck. He was carrying his jacket draped over his arm and her breathing hitched when she saw his red tie in his right hand.

His eyes darted quickly around the room before staring at the floor. "Why are you all here? It's Saturday."

"Why are you here?" countered the shrink. Without waiting for a reply, he asked, "Hey, Walt, what's it like French kissing a French woman?"

"Shut the hell up, Toby." Walter lifted his head to glare at the psychiatrist, who received a whack upside the head from Happy. He'd heard Paige's gasp, but he couldn't bring himself to glance her way. 

"Well, so much for the good mood theory," the shrink wisecracked as he opened the truck door. "So long, big brain, we've got a motorcycle to sell." With that, he climbed into the passenger seat and Happy drove off. The overhead door rattled shut behind them.

Walter had been keenly aware of Paige's presence from the moment he entered the garage. He'd squirmed as her eyes swept over his disheveled appearance. Dressing in the dark hadn't been one of his better ideas but he hadn't wanted to disturb Simone, who had been sleeping in the other room. He'd wanted to avoid an awkward scene with the agent this morning, only to walk into an even more awkward scene with the one person he really wanted to avoid.

"Walter?"

He didn't want to acknowledge her. He was tired, he'd tossed and turned all night, the guilt he had almost had intercourse with another woman and the frustration he hadn't keeping him awake. Dealing with her was the last thing he wanted to do. But he couldn't ignore her as a reason why she was there and not with the interloper crossed his mind. 

"Is something wrong with Ralph?" he asked, glancing upward. "Is he upstairs?"

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "No, Ralph's fine." She shook her head. "Walter, I. . ."

"What?" he said brusquely, staring back down at the cracks in the concrete floor. "I thought you and. . .and Tim. . .w-went away for the weekend. So if Ralph's okay, why are y-you here?"

She burst into tears. Pressing his lips together, he lifted his head to see her wiping at her face. She didn't look much better than he did. Her clothing was wrinkled, her hair was messy, her eyes were red and puffy and underlined with dark circles. He wanted to go to her, but he couldn't. She didn't want him. She wanted. . .Tim. Crushing his tie in his fist, he averted his gaze.

"Walter, please," she sobbed. "Don't be like this. I. . . We. . . Walter, I'm. . ."

"Why are you here? You made your choice. And it w-wasn't me."

"I'm sorry." She rose up out of her chair. "I know I hurt you. But I didn't want you to. . .well. . .you and Simone. . ." Walking toward him, she put out her hand.

He stepped back, staring at her outstretched hand like it was a snake. "I thought you w-wanted nothing to do with me. I'm still married. N-Nothing has changed."

Lowering her arm, she then wrapped it about her waist. "I know. I know I have no right to be. . .to be jealous. But I am. I can't help it." 

Closing his eyes, he inhaled then exhaled slowly, trying to tamp down his frustration. He could feel her staring at him, and he met her gaze. "Not that you will believe me," he began, his voice as dull as the pain in his chest, "but I didn't have. . .I didn't sleep with Simone."

"You. . .You didn't? Why not?" She sounded incredulous. 

"Because it felt like I was cheating on you," he replied, wanting her to know the whole truth. "I love you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out, and I know I shouldn't have expected you to wait for me. But I did. And I know I've. . .I've lost y-you forever. I just. . .I just hope you and. . .Tim. . .w-will be happy together."

He spun away then, unable to bear her presence any longer. He headed toward the stairs, intending to shower and change his clothes.

A loud wail stopped him in his tracks. He turned in time to see Paige drop to her knees to the floor, her head in her hands as sobs wracked her body. Walter tossed his jacket and tie aside and rushed over to her, crouching down in front of her.

"What's wrong? Are you ill?" He wanted so badly to touch her, but he didn't want to make whatever she was going through worse.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Wrapping her arms around herself, she began rocking back and forth. She'd shut her eyes but not before he'd caught a glimpse of the distress she was suffering.

"Oh, God, Paige, what's wrong? What can I do?" 

Reaching out, she placed her hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry. . .so sorry," she mumbled between sniffles. "I should have waited for you. Tim. . .oh, God. . .Tim. . .he. . .he. . ." She moaned again, her pain cutting him like a knife.

"What did he do, Paige?" He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Did he hurt you?"

She was gasping for air and he could tell she was on the verge of becoming hysterical. Maybe because he was as well. "I should have. . .should have stopped him, I-I d-didn't want him. . ."

"He. . .r-raped y-you?" Walter's concern transformed into fury. "Mr Perfect r-raped you?"

"He's not p-perfect. He's. . .Oh, God. . ." She grew incoherent as her tears continued to flow. She leaned into him and he put his arms around her. 

"Are you okay? Do you need to go to the ER?" he asked as he helped her to her feet and led her to the couch. 

"No." She buried her face into his shoulder. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry?" She was trembling in his embrace and he had a hard time keeping his temper in check. "He's the one who needs to be sorry. If he hurt you. . ."

"I'm okay," she mumbled, contradicting herself when she winced as she shifted her position. He lightly patted her back until she finally calmed down. "I'm so sorry," she said again as she relaxed against him.

Without thinking, he kissed her forehead. He froze as she pulled back, staring at him with wide shimmering eyes.

"Walter?" Her breathless whisper sent a shiver down his spine. A wholly inappropriate response but he couldn't help himself. His ill-timed desire was fueled further as she drew closer until her lips were a millimeter away from his. 

He closed his eyes, savoring the anticipation of her mouth on his. His heart was beating out of his chest, his breathing almost nonexistent. The scent of her lavender made him twitch with need.

The door slammed open, its loud creak startling both of them and they sprang apart. 

"Paige? Where are you?" Tim's impatient voice proceeded him as he strode into the garage. He abruptly came to a halt as he glanced in their direction. "Paige," he said, coming toward them. "I've been worried sick. I've been looking. . ."

The ex-Navy SEAL never got the chance to finish his sentence as Walter jumped to his feet and launched himself at the other man, knocking his interloping ass to the floor.


	10. Chapter Nine

_The ex-Navy SEAL never got the chance to finish his sentence as Walter jumped to his feet and launched himself at the other man, knocking his interloping ass to the floor._

Appreciating the fact he had the element of surprise on his side, Walter realized it wouldn't last for long. With that in mind, his fists flew at the man he had pinned to the floor. He tuned out Paige's frantic shouts and Tim's foul curses as he pummeled the other man. 

He'd landed a particularly satisfying punch to the trainee's nose when suddenly everything flipped upside down and he was the one lying on his back on the hard concrete. With Tim's forearm pressed against his throat.

"What the hell, O'Brien," the intern said, his nose dripping blood.

"Stop! You're going to hurt him!" Walter struggled to breathe as Paige came up behind Tim and pounded on his back. "Get off of him!"

The weight lifted from his neck as Tim pushed upward. "What the hell?" the ex-SEAL asked again, standing over him with a puzzled look on his face.

Walter scrambled to his feet. "Get out," he snarled, "or I'm calling the police."

Tim's confused expression grew angry. "Hey asshole, you're the one who assaulted me," he countered. "I'm just trying to see if Paige is okay, she. . ."

"You want to know if she's okay?" Walter couldn't believe his ears. After what he'd done. . . "Of course she's not okay. You raped her, you son of a bitch."

Tim's mouth dropped open and Walter watched as the trainee's face visibly paled, the red blood trickling from his nose standing out in stark contrast. Then Tim turned to stare at Paige. 

"You told him I raped you?" His voice was barely above a whisper and now it was Walter's turn to be bewildered. The intern seemed shocked by the accusation. He looked over at Paige, her complexion even whiter than Tim's, tears coursing down her cheeks once again.

The ex-SEAL spun around wildly, appearing to be on the verge of crying himself. "I didn't rape her." He sucked in a ragged breath. "It scared the hell out of me when I woke up and she was gone. She was kissing me. . . I thought she wanted it as much as I did. I would have stopped. . ." He wiped at his nose, blood smearing on the back of his hand. 

Walter took a step toward Paige, who was hiding her face in her hands. "Is this true? It wasn't. . .? You let him. . .?" Choking back the bile rising in his throat at the thought of them engaged in sexual intercourse, he stared at her, hoping against hope she would deny it.

But she nodded. 

"Get out!" he shouted as rage exploded inside him. "Both of you. Just get the fuck out. You're both off the team. . .you're both fired!" When neither of them moved, he repeated himself, "Get out!" 

Tim walked up to Paige, his face flushed with fury. "I'm done," he sneered. "That you would accuse me of. . .of raping you, just so you could be the victim in this twisted little game you've been playing, pitting me and Walter against each other so you can get some kind of perverted pleasure out of it."

Paige uncovered her eyes, seeing the disgust and hatred on the intern's face. "It's not like that at all," she began, "I'm sorry, Tim. . .I"

"Fuck your sorry," he interrupted with a growl. "And fuck you." He turned to Walter, whose expression closely matched the ex-SEAL's. "You can have the lying bitch. . .if you still want her. But just remember," he added, jabbing a finger toward Walter's chest. "I had her first."

With that, he stalked out of the garage, slamming the door behind him. Paige glanced over at the man left standing several feet away from her.

"Walter," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

The genius was staring in her general direction but carefully avoiding looking her in the eye. "You made me feel sorry for you. You lied to me. You let him. . ." He drew in a deep breath. "I don't think I can . . .can trust you anymore."

"Walter, please. . ."

He cut off her words with a shake of his head. "You knew how I felt, yet you flaunted him in my face every chance you could." Running his hand through his hair, he continued in a monotone. "Maybe he's right, maybe you did enjoy setting us against each other. I don't know. . ."

She saw his throat spasm, knew he was close to shutting down, his emotions overwhelming him. "Now, get out," he said flatly. "I-I mean it. . .y-you're fired. I can't w-work with you after this." 

"What about Ralph?"

His face crumpled, and he looked upward, pinching the bridge of his nose. The cracks in her heart widened from the sorrow radiating off of him as he resigned himself to losing the child he loved as his own. 

"What about him?" he asked dejectedly, his shoulders slumping. "You've barely let me see him in the last few months. He probably won't even miss me." She flinched at the bitterness she heard in his voice. "Please, just go. I'll have Cabe bring you any personal items you leave behind along with your severance check." 

He finally met her gaze, and she cringed again at the raw agony she saw in his eyes. Then reality punched her in the gut. He was serious. He'd fired her. He never wanted to see her again. Never wanted to see Ralph again. Tears poured down her face as she gulped desperately for air. Oh, God. What had she done? She moved toward him, extending her hand again. "Please, Walter. . ."

Spinning abruptly, he practically ran up the staircase and into his loft, where he firmly shut the door behind him. As the latch clicked into place, something broke inside her, panic spreading over her like a wave. Staggering over to her desk, she flopped down into her chair.

Oh, God, what was she going to do? She'd lost her job. And even worse, she'd lost the man she loved, the man who held her heart in his smart, capable hands. And, oh, God, how was she going to explain all this to Ralph? He worshiped Walter. He was going to be devastated, maybe even revert back to the way he'd been before. . . A sob tore through her at the thought.

Shakily she got to her feet, shoving as many of her belongings scattered on her desktop as she could into her purse. Then she had to fumble around for her keys, swearing when she couldn't find them. Her hand wrapped itself her phone and she yanked it out, coming to the conclusion she was in no shape to drive. Figuring he owed her, she used Tim's Lyft account again, calling for a car to take her home.

_____

Walter leaned his back against the loft door, listening as Paige moved around downstairs. Tipping his head backward, he closed his eyes as the ugly scene kept replaying in his mind. He knew he'd done the right thing. She'd lied to him. She'd willingly engaged in sexual intercourse with the interloper then claimed she'd been raped. She'd played with his emotions, knowing how hard it was for him to even admit he had them. He'd been right to fire her.

Then why did it feel so wrong? His stomach roiled and he knew he was about to be sick. Rushing into his kitchen, he dry heaved over the stainless steel sink. His throat burned and sweat rolled down his face as he heard a car's horn followed seconds later by the creaking of the downstairs door. 

She was gone. For good. He would probably never see her again. Or Ralph. He bent over the sink again as the thought of never seeing the young genius again, the thought the boy would think he'd been abandoned yet again, made him retch until he almost passed out. 

This was killing him. She was the first woman he had ever loved. And she would be the last. Ralph had been the son he'd now never have. Because if he survived losing them, he never wanted to go through anything this horrific again.

Using the dish towel to wipe off his face, he then took his cell from his pocket. The pull of the rabbit hole, of retreating into a world of logic and math and science, began to tug him downward. Into a world where he could pretend his heart wasn't broken, where his pain would recede into nothingness. But a trip down the hole would only delay the inevitable grief. He'd learned his lesson after Megan had died. 

He needed a distraction before he succumbed to its allure. Punching a string of numbers into his phone, he then listened as it rang several times before being picked up.

"Hello?" The French accented voice purred into his ear.

"Uh, Simone? T-This is Walter. W-When does your flight leave?"

_____

Walter knew as the Interpol agent ushered him inside her hotel suite once again, his vague plan of sleeping with her for revenge would once again never work. It had been, and would be, foolish to even try. It was insane, to save himself for a woman he'd never see again, but he wanted no other.

"Are you all right?" Simone asked. He'd showered and changed his clothes before coming over. But he'd seen his face in the mirror as he'd shaved. He looked like shit.

"Yes," he lied. "I w-wanted to apologize again for last n-night. I'm sorry I-I, uh, disappointed you."

The agent sat down in a chair, indicating he should do the same. He obeyed, grateful for the excuse as his legs were trembling and he doubted they would have held him upright for much longer. "I have to admit I was quite disappointed. You are a passionate man, _mon beau_." Heat swept over him from his head to his toes at her words and he ducked his head for a second. Simone smiled indulgently. "Oh, so humble." She sighed. "The woman who is lucky enough to be your first. . . I envy her. I can only hope she will appreciate you as much as I would have."

She reached over and patted his leg. The contact startled him and he shifted away. "I'm-I'm sorry," he repeated. 

"Not as much as I am." She cocked her head, scrutinizing him. "I sensed from your call you need a shoulder to cry on, so to speak. Am I right?"

"Yes," he answered truthfully this time. "I need another perspective. Mine is too emotional and I'm afraid. . .afraid of doing the wrong thing. Afraid I might have already done the w-wrong thing."

"Why don't I order some coffee and then you can tell me all about it?" suggested Simone. "Like I said, my flight isn't until this afternoon. I have a few hours to spare before I have to check out."

"Okay." He lifted his gaze just as a speculative gleam appeared in her eyes. She still wanted him. And he was still going to have to disappoint her. Maybe listening to the mess he'd made of his life would make her see the narrow escape she'd had.

After the coffee arrived, Walter told her everything; starting with the day he'd first met Paige to the final horrendous scene that morning. How he'd been a moron spouting that love didn't exist, when he'd first realized he had feelings for her, ones he didn't recognize until it was too late.

"She lead me to believe he'd r-raped her," he finally said, rubbing his hands over his face. "I fired her. I'll never see her. . .or Ralph again. But. . .I don't know if I can let them go. They both mean the world to me." He exhaled before adding, "But she. . .she lied to me, manipulated my emotions. I don't know if I can forgive her." 

"Walter," Simone began, "if you love her, you can forgive her. If you want her, go get her." 

"Easier said than done," he replied, shaking his head. "She doesn't want me. I can never be the man she wants me to be. The one I need to be for her."

"There is nothing wrong with you, _mon beau_. You are who you are. And if she can't accept that, maybe you are better off." The agent examined him again. "You know, from what you've said, she never told you he raped her. You just assumed he did. Maybe in her mind, she felt violated even though she didn't stop him. It's a fine line, Walter." Her face grew pensive. "I respected your right to say no. How would you have felt if I hadn't and pressured you to continue?"

"I. . .I would have. . . I would have regretted it. . .and hated myself," he acknowledged. "I'm sorry." He got to his feet and started pacing, dragging his hand through his hair. "I've totally screwed it up, haven't I? I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not. You just need to tell her what you've told me. It's obvious to me you love each other, but you're both afraid of losing the other. You can't be afraid to lose her if you never risk being together, Walter. Just talk to her."

"I will. Thanks." He came to halt. Maybe it was as simple as clearing the air between them. No more half-truths and downright lies, no more evasions. Using one of Toby's gambling analogies, just lay their cards on the table and let the chips fall where they may.

"You are welcome." Simone smiled at him as she stood, gliding her hand over the side of his face before kissing him on the cheek. "Be happy, Walter. And if your heart is ever free again, look me up."

His skin burned as he nodded, knowing it was a promise he'd never keep. His heart would never be free. Ever.

_____

Paige was curled up in her bed, where she'd spent most of the day crying until she couldn't cry anymore. Her eyes were gritty, her cheeks raw, and she was sick to her stomach.

And the sad part of it all. . . She was entirely to blame. She could have nipped this in the bud months ago. She could have gone to Walter, told him she loved him, told him she was willing to try if he was. But she hadn't. And now everything was a mess and it was all her fault.

A knock sounded on her front door. A quick glance at her alarm told her it was nearly ten-thirty. Dragging her arm over her face with a groan, she tried to block it out but the rapping continued and she could hear her muffled name through the thick wood.

Dammit, they were going to disturb her neighbors. Pushing herself up off the mattress, she ran her fingers through her hair. She knew she looked like shit. But she didn't care. The odds were split evenly, 50-50, on who was knocking on her door. 

She laughed mirthless at the gambling reference. She knew who she wanted it to be. But the way her luck was running lately. . . With a sigh, she got to her feet and walked out of her bedroom, through the living room, not stopping until she reached the door to peer through the peep hole.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scorpion has been officially renewed for a 4th season!

_With a sigh, she got to her feet and walked out of her bedroom, through the living room, not stopping until she reached the door to peer through the peep hole._

"Walter." Paige stared at him for a few moments as they stood in the doorway, relieved it had been the genius on the other side of her door. He looked as bad as she must. His eyes, which were aimed at her feet, were bloodshot, shadowed by dark circles. His clothes were rumpled and droplets of rain clung to his messy curls.

"Uh," he said, breaking the silence. "I know it's late. I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right. Come in." She opened the door wider and he walked inside, glancing around nervously as he actively avoided looking directly at her. "Do you want to sit down?"

"Okay." He waited until she sat down on the couch before sitting down on the opposite end, as far away as he could be and still be on the same piece of furniture. Paige tucked her legs up under her as she placed a pillow on her lap

"Uh. . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I, um, brought your car back for you. I-I thought y-you might need it."

"Oh, thank you, Walter. That was sweet of you." 

He grunted in response before declaring, "I-I should go." He still stared at the floor, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes.

"Wait," she said as a thought occurred to her. "How will you get back to the garage?"

"Walk."

"It's raining." 

"I know." He stood up. "I'm sorry. I should go."

Paige panicked as he took a step toward the door. He couldn't leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Walter." 

Coming to a halt, he kept his eyes trained downward. "What?"

Oh, God, he wasn't going to make this easy, was he? But then he'd finally taken the initiative and had come to her, which couldn't have been easy for him. "Please stay."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry." Taking another step, he turned his back to her. "By the way, you're not fired. I-I, uh, thought it over and. . . You still have a job at Scorpion on Monday. If y-you still w-want it, that is."

"I want it. I'll be there. Thanks."

"So, okay. . . I-I should go," he repeated. 

"Walter, look at me."

"I can't." He raised his head to gaze at her ceiling. "I'm sorry. You're too painful."

Even though she was close to tears, her lips quirked into a smile. "And you're not?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

"But I am. I. . .I don't know w-what else to say. I'm sorry."

"Oh God, Walter." She dropped her head into her hands for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut as her vision began to blur. "Please, sit back down. We need to talk."

"Okay." He obeyed, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief as he returned to his perch at the other end of her sofa. 

The silence grew deafening as he stared down at his clasped hands. Clutching the pillow to her churning stomach, Paige knew she would have to start the conversation, but she didn't know where to begin. There were so many wounds between them, some fresh, some scabbed over, none of them completely healed. It was hard to choose which one to pick at first.

"Ralph's not here, is he?"

Walter's question startled her, taking the choice out of her hands, and it took her several seconds to respond. "No. He's still at Sylvester's. I didn't want to disrupt their plans. Sly went to so much trouble. . ." 

"Good." She heard him take a deep breath. "I would have taken care of him this weekend. There's an exhibit at the Science Center I know he would be interested in."

"I think that was one of the places Sylvester planned to take him."

"Oh." He ran his hands over his face and up into his hair. "I've missed him."

Her heart twisted as his voice cracked with sadness. "I think he's missed you, too." Exhaling, she continued, "I've been a crappy mom lately. I didn't even realize how miserable my son was until. . . Well, until certain events opened my eyes. I have a lot to make up for."

"I don't blame you," he declared, still staring at the carpet. "You were. . .were. . . You're not a bad mother. You're the best one I know."

"Thank you, Walter." She unwound her legs and scooted a little closer to where he sat, fidgeting with his fingers. "That's very sweet, even though I don't deserve it."

"Yes you do." He shot her a glance so fleeting, she thought she imagined it. 

That tiny bit of eye contact caused the wall around her heart to crumble. "No, Walter, I don't." Hugging the pillow tighter, she stared at his profile. "I've become a different person lately, one I don't like very much. I've become one of ‘those' normals, the kind who doesn't see how special you and the rest of the team can be. I've let. . .let other, well. . .things. . .influence me and I'm really sorry. I. . .I just hope you can forgive me someday."

He didn't respond and she started to wonder if he'd even heard her. Then he leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. "I can't forgive you."

A whimper escaped her lips. Oh, God, it was too late. She'd let Tim's normalcy affect how she'd treated the geniuses, including her own son. Shame bubbled up inside her as she recalled how impatient and unkind she'd been. And now Walter hated her. He was going to shut her out of his life forever. "Walter. . ." 

"I can't forgive you because there's nothing to forgive," he said. "I don't blame you for any. . .any of this. It's all my fault. You need to forgive me. I'm the one who messed up. I'm the one who hurt you. Me. Me and my stupid non-existent EQ."

"It's not all your fault. You have every right to be mad at me. I've been a real bitch since I started going out with. . ." The ex-SEAL's name stuck in her throat as the parting image of his snarling face crossed her mind, his harsh words, and that last nasty taunt he'd thrown at Walter. 

"I only agreed to go out with him because I saw you hugging Linda that night. You know, the day Ralph won his case. I had no idea you had just decided to end it. I didn't know until you. . .until you told me you two had broken up and I thought you were going to ask me to go to Tahoe with you. I was going to say yes, Walter. But you didn't give me the chance. You practically shoved me. . .into T-Tim's arms."

His face contorted into a pained grimace. "You think I don't know that? I've beaten myself up over it every day since. I w-was a coward. I was afraid of losing you, and that's exactly what happened. I-I lost y-you."

He didn't look up when she slid next to him, mere inches separating their bodies. "You didn't lose me. I'm right here."

Tipping his head back, he groaned softly. "I know. But that's not w-what I mean. . ." He exhaled before lowering his eyes, finally looking directly at her. The pain and sorrow she saw in their dark depths shouldn't have shocked her, but she was.

"Then what do you mean?" she asked, hoping he didn't think he'd lost her because she'd had sex with Tim. He knew she wasn't a virgin; she had a child, for heaven's sake. Even Drew wasn't her first. Surely, he wouldn't be so petty. . .

"I mean I keep pushing you away," he said, cutting into her thoughts. "I pushed you away again today. It's what I do. I push people away before they can distance themselves from me. It's a defensive mechanism, according to Toby, so they can't hurt me. And I know you'd never hurt me, but I've pushed you so far away. . .I'd understand if you never came back. 

"I'm sorry for this morning. I let my emotions cloud my reason. It's still no excuse for what I said. . .what I did. I know it was unforgivable and. . .and I-I'll understand if y-you hate me for being such an asshole. I don't like myself very much right now either." 

Walter returned his gaze to the carpet covering her living room floor, trying to focus on its patterns instead of the pain and sorrow he'd seen in her hazel eyes. Instead of how she was sitting so close, the heat of her body seared his skin, the lavender she always wore sending shivers down his spine.

"Walter," she said after a long moment. "What happened this morning wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have dragged you into my. . .my intimate problems with. . .with T-Tim. I should have faced him on my own instead of running away and hiding then using you as a shield. I knew you weren't emotionally equipped to handle such an personal situation. I made some stupid decisions, but that doesn't excuse what I did either.

"I do need you to forgive me. I've forgiven you for the speed dating, and Linda. . .and even Simone. . ."

"I didn't have sex with her." Walter jerked his head up to stare at her. 

"I know you didn't." She averted her gaze. "It made me sick though, the thought you would. . ."

"The thought of you and. . .and. . .T-Tim. . ." Disturbing images filled his head again and bile rose in the back of this throat. He swallowed, tamping down his nausea. "You're really okay? He d-didn't hurt. . ."

"I'm really okay, Walter." She glanced up at him and smiled shyly. His insides twisted again, but this time with longing. He shook his head. He'd be no better than an animal if he gave into his desire for her. Sex had to be the last thing on her mind. Taking several deep breaths, he changed the subject.

"So what do we do now?" he asked. "Where do we go from here?" He knew what he wanted. He just hoped her answer matched his.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could just start over," she said with a sigh. "Wipe the slate clean and go back to the beginning. Too bad that can never happen in real life."

"Why can't we?" Paige turned to stare at him. "Start over, I mean," he added. 

"We can't just. . ."

Walter interrupted her, holding out his hand. "Hello, my name is Walter O'Brien. 

"Paige Dineen," she said, shaking the offered hand as her lips twitched. "Nice to meet you."

"I have an IQ of 197." 

"I think I heard that somewhere before." She grinned at him then. "I have an amazing son named Ralph."

"He is amazing." Walter tried to keep a straight face but failed as the corners of his mouth curled up. "Or so I've heard."

"What else have you heard, Mr O'Brien?"

"I hear his mother is pretty amazing too."

"Thank you," she said, ducking her head before meeting his eyes. "So, do you think we can be friends again? I miss being your friend."

Walter winced, the idea of just being friends caused his chest to tighten. He wanted so much more than mere friendship. But deep down, he knew he'd agree to anything she wanted. And if it meant being just friends. . . "Yes. I miss you, too."

"Good." She let go of his hand, which he forgot she'd been holding. The loss of contact unraveled him, reminding him how much he craved her touch. It would be pure agony to be just friends with her when he wanted her as badly as he did. When every time she put her hand on him, he'd burst into flames and could never ever do anything about it except masturbate alone in his room at night. That pathetic picture made him jump to his feet.

"I'm sorry. I can't be your friend." He began to pace in front of the sofa, averting his gaze from her stunned face.

"Walter?" The pain he heard in her voice brought him to a halt. He had to explain. He wasn't sure if he could, but he had to try.

"I can't just be friends with you. I should have recognized my feelings for y-you for what they are a long time ago. But I didn't. I've been so stupid." He paused to exhale, realizing his next words where the most important ones he'd ever uttered. "I love you and I always will. I saw something special in you the very first day we met. Something I'd never felt before. I didn't know what it was then. But I do now. You're the love of my life."

"Oh, God, Walter." Helplessness swamped him as he watched tears rolled down her cheeks. "You can't just. . ." She sucked in a breath. "You don't play fair."

"I tried to play by the rules," he said. "I didn't do so well."

"I know." Paige wiped at her face. "And some of that is my fault. I tried to change you into someone you could never be." 

Walter opened his mouth to protest, but she continued before he could get a word out. "Which was stupid because I'd already fallen for the man you are."

"But I wanted to change," he said. "My life was a mess. Scorpion was on the verge of going under, I'd just wasted three months of someone else's life, and I dumped her before she could dump me. I couldn't connect with people, and I constantly pissed off everyone around me

"Then I met you. . .and Ralph. You made me want to be a better person. A better human."

"Walter, you've always been human. You're just a little weirder than most. And like I said before, that's okay."

She rose up from the couch, moving close enough she could reach out and touch his face. He closed his eyes as he turned into her hand, reveling in the contact, desire shooting through every nerve of his body. He gulped as she breathlessly said his name, anticipation making him shudder as she slid her fingers to the back of his neck and into his hair. 

"Paige." Her name spilled from his mouth like a plea, whether to beg her to stop or beg her to continue, he didn't know. His brain had ceased all activity except for the basic functions he needed to survive.

"Walter." She gazed into his eyes. "I love you, too." 

Then she lightly pressed her lips to his.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_Then she lightly pressed her lips to his._

There was a moment of hesitation before he moved his mouth on hers. His hands found the small of her back as he teased his tongue into her mouth with a finesse he hadn't possessed the first time they'd kissed. Not wanting to think about how he'd sharpened his skills. . .and with whom. . .Paige closed her eyes as she tangled her fingers through his soft silky curls. Desire slithered down her spine, settling into a insistent ache between her thighs.

Tugging her closer, he lost his balance and fell backward onto the couch. Their lips still locked in a searing kiss, Paige fell on top of him, and ended up straddling his lap. His grunt of surprise quickly turn into a moan as she scooted forward along the hard ridge in his jeans.

Their kisses grew more frenzied as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. It didn't help her brain was turning to mush as he slipped his hands under her tee, and began drifting up and down her back She lifted her mouth from his, moving along his jaw, his whiskers prickling her lips. His hands glided down to her hips before traveling upward, cupping her breasts. 

She moaned softly as he brushed his thumbs across the hard buds of her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra, pleasure raging through her like a wildfire. Undoing the last button on his shirt, she shoved it off his shoulders. The sight of his bare chest made her a little lightheaded, even though she's seen it before on several occasions. But then he'd never been close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin, to breathe in the scent of him; a mixture of soap and sweat mingled with rain; leaving her shaking with anticipation. 

His breathing hitched as he reached with unsteady hands for the hem of her tee. With nerve-wracking deliberation, he pulled it up over her head. Tossing the garment aside, she lowered her arms, noting the frown on his face.

"What?" she asked, curious what had caused his displeasure. Surely he wasn't upset she was wearing a bra. And of course it had to be the plain white cotton one, the least sexy one she owned. 

"You said T. . . Y-You said h-he didn't hurt you." He glared pointedly at her neck.

Paige lifted her hand to her throat. Oh, God, the stupid love bites Tim had given her. "They're not bruises. . .well, not technically." She realized she was explaining it badly as he furrowed his brow in confusion. "They're just hickeys. They're harmless."

"It-It. . .looks like he tr-tried to strangle y-you." She could feel the anger coming off of him in waves as he stared at the purple marks.

"Walter, it's okay," she reassured him, "Please. . ."

Her plea trailed off as he leaned forward, gently pressing his mouth to both marks, her pulse jumping with each tender kiss. A strange sensation, like he was claiming them as his own, swept through her. But even as she shook off the fanciful feeling, tears welled up in her eyes. She pulled him into an embrace, pressing her face to his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.

He stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple, wordlessly soothing her as she tried to get herself under control. When she lifted her head, Walter cupped both sides of her face as he leaned back. There were questions in his dark eyes, ones she didn't know if she could answer. There was fear there as well, which she didn't know if she could ease. But she had to try.

"I love you, Walter. And I want you," she murmured, caressing the back of his neck. "Only you."

Lowering his hands, he placed them on her hips, pulling her tight against him. "I want you, too," he stated unnecessarily as his need for her was rather obvious. "Are y-you sure?"

She knew what he was asking. And she was questioning her motives herself. Deep down she knew she partly wanted to erase the unpleasant memories of what had happened with the ex-SEAL. But she also realized she wanted Walter more than she'd ever wanted any one else before. Just as she loved him more than she'd ever loved any other man. 

Smiling, she ran her fingers through his hair again. "I'm sure, Walter. I don't think I've ever been surer of anything in my life." To prove her point, she skimmed her nails up his back, along his shoulders, then down his arms. His muscles tensed under her fingertips as she glided them over his chest. Stopping when she reached the waistband of his jeans, her knuckles grazing his stomach and he drew in a sharp breath.

Glancing up at his face, she noticed his eyes were closed, his teeth embedded in his bottom lip. "Walter. . ." she began worriedly as she rocked back.

"Don't. . ." he murmured as he sought out her mouth. "Don't stop." He licked the seam of her lips, sliding his tongue inside as she opened to him. Her hips began to move, grinding herself against him, and he thrust back, his hands once again touching her breasts. Pressure grew deep down inside her, and to her surprise she realized she was close to an orgasm.

Pulling back, gasping for breath, Paige rested her forehead against his. "Maybe we should take this into the bedroom?" she suggested, gazing into his dark brown eyes as he, too, panted in shallow bursts, his heart racing in sync with hers.

He froze, an odd expression passing over his face before he gave himself a shake. "Okay," he murmured. Paige got to her feet, discovering her legs were trembling so badly they could barely keep her upright. She reached out to help Walter stand up, noting he was shaking worse than she was as he took her hand, following her to her room.

Paige closed the door even though they were alone, wanting the extra layer of privacy as she thought of the enormity of what she was. . .what they. . .were about to do. Barring an earthshaking catastrophe or the untimely intrusion of a team member, she was going to have sex with Walter O'Brien. 

The way he was staring at her, as they faced each other at the foot of her bed, as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world, made her flush with heat. Wearing an old bra and sweatpants, her hair gathering into a messy ponytail, her face blotchy from crying; she knew she was far from beautiful. But he didn't seem to notice. . .or care. . .as his awestruck gaze never wavered. 

Biting her lip, she stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. He glanced downward as his heart beat erratically under her palm as it slid slowly toward his jeans again. She undid the button with clumsy fingers as a moan escaped his thinly pressed lips. Moving onto the zipper, she lowered it unhurriedly before finally reaching the bottom and pushing the denim off his hips. 

He tried to kick off his shoes and trousers at the same time, no doubt trying to be efficient; but his feet got tangled up and he grabbed her as he lost his balance, pulling them both onto the bed. He narrowly missed landing on top of her as she fell onto her back.

"Oh, sh. . . Sorry. I-I'm sorry." He scooted away from her, but not before she caught a glimpse of the bulge in his boxers as it brushed against her thigh. It looked as big as it felt, like an anaconda compared to Tim's tiny dick. She'd always heard size didn't matter but. . . She was about to find out if that saying was true.

"It's all right, Walter." She shimmied out of her sweatpants, yet again bemoaning the fact she was wearing plain white cotton panties, ones she was sure had a hole or two in them somewhere. She took them off, too, along with her bra. Rolling onto her side, she carefully inched toward him. He'd shed his underwear and she could feel every hard inch of him against her stomach.

"I, uh, I. . .I n-need to tell y-you. . ." he began as he kept his eyes averted. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he gulped convulsively. "I-I've never d-done this before."

Even though she'd suspected his lack of experience for a long time, his confession still shocked her. She reached out and caressed his cheek. "We can wait. . ." she said, hoping to alleviate the obligation to perform he was no doubt burdening himself with. Because of what had happened to her, she was not about to push him into doing something he wasn't ready to do.

He shook his head. "I don't want to wait anymore." Raising his gaze, he smiled shyly before looking away again. "I love you. I-I'm not. . . I mean, I-I understand the basic physiology. . . Things I can do to give y-you pleasure. Places t-to t-touch. . .t-to kiss. . ." 

His eyes darted downward and she nearly swooned at the thought of him putting his mouth on her. . .down there. _Oh, God_. It had been years, nearly a decade, since anyone had. . . She closed her eyes for a second, lust throbbing low in her belly.

"I want it to be perfect. . . I-I've just never. . ." 

She placed a finger over his mouth. "Shh, I know," she murmured as she slid her arms around his neck. "We love each other, right?" He nodded. "Then everything will be okay. Trust me."

"Okay." Walter took a deep breath before touching his lips to hers. They gravitated toward each other as they kissed until their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to thigh, the hardened tips of her breasts grazing his chest. 

He closed his eyes, groaning low in his throat. She was so soft and warm, her lavender scent enveloping him as she rocked against him, driving every coherent thought from his mind. He was once again on the precipice of a life-changing moment. It felt different this time though, it felt right. Because he was sharing it with the woman he loved, who inexplicably loved him in return.

Walter gazed at Paige's beautiful face as she rolled over onto her back, pulling him on top of her. She was breathing as heavily as he was, her heart beating erratically as his own. Her hazel eyes stared back at him, her mouth curled into a smile as she parted her legs. 

He lightly pressed his lips to hers as he slid inside her.

_____

A grayish light shone through cracks in the curtained window as Walter opened his eyes. Something was wrong. No, not wrong, different. He wasn't in his bed in his loft. He was in a different bed in a different building. And for the first time in his life he wasn't waking up alone. Paige was wrapped in his arms, one of his hands resting on her belly, the other on one of her breasts, their legs entwined together. Bare skin touching bare skin.

So much physical contact should have overwhelmed him, should have been too much to process, should have caused him to shut down. But it hadn't. In fact, he wouldn't mind waking up with her for the rest of his life. Pressing his lips to her hair, he inhaled deeply, the scent of lavender stirring his senses. 

He now knew what all the fuss was about. Surprisingly, there weren't enough words to describe the experience. . .experiences. His body flushed with heat as he recalled every moment of each encounter. The first time had been a bit awkward and a little quicker than he'd have liked; the second had lasted longer, slower with the same mind-blowing result. The sensation of being inside her. . .of when she'd climaxed around him. . . Both times had been amazing.

He felt himself surge against her hip, a soft moan escaping his throat. They'd already done it twice, a third time seemed presumptuous. Not wanting to disturb her, he attempted to untangle himself. He froze when Paige stretched, then rolled over to face him. She snuggled up against his chest before sighing contentedly.

Watching the even rise and fall of her breathing, he realized he wasn't going anywhere. Shutting his eyes, he started to recite the decimal places of pi in his head as he tried to relax. He'd reached the 500th number (a 2) before finally drifting off to sleep.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the outline for this chapter between 3 and 5 am the morning after the Season 3 finale. Guess I had Waige on the brain for some reason. It's short and hopefully sweet and sadly, the last chapter of this fic. Thanks again for reading, leaving kudos, and for your patience with my irregular writing process. I truly appreciate you all.

Paige woke up, stretching lazily as she noticed streaks of light filling the room. Smiling sleepily, she reached over to the other side of the bed, her grin disappearing as her hand met nothing but soft cotton. Walter was gone. The empty sheets were still slightly warm and his scent still lingered when she sniffed his pillow. If he had snuck out, he hadn't been gone for very long. 

But why would he feel the need to sneak out? Why would he feel he couldn't face her this morning? He certainly had nothing to be embarrassed about, he'd been wonderful. His passion, his eagerness to please, had more than made up for any awkwardness and inexperience. 

Tears began to fill her eyes as a sharp sense of abandonment filled her. He'd told her he loved her and she'd believed him. But then he hadn't been the first one to tell her that, wouldn't be the first man to get what he wanted from her then cut and run. 

She sat up, wiping at her damp cheeks when she heard a rattling sound coming from the kitchen. The aroma of cinnamon-laced coffee also drifted through the air. A loud clatter followed by some cursing had her biting her lip to keep from giggling with relief. He was still there, he hadn't abandoned her, and evidently was making her breakfast in bed.

Walter, pushing the bedroom door open with his butt, entered carrying a cooking sheet. The makeshift tray held a mug of coffee, two pieces of toast, a butter knife, a stick of butter, a jar of grape jelly, and a flower that looked suspiciously like the ones growing on the bushes around the condo complex. 

His eyes grew wide as he stopped just inside the room, his gaze meeting hers then flicking downward. Glancing down, she realized she was naked and her bare breasts were on display. _Oh, God_. Her nipples hardened under his scrutiny even as she pulled up the sheet to cover herself, tucking it snugly under her armpits. 

Cautiously moving forward, he set the cookie sheet precariously on her lap. "Uh, good morning," he said, giving her a nervous smile before looking away. "I, uh, I didn't know if you'd want butter or jelly or even if y-you'd want toast and I can make you something else if you w-want and. . ."

"Walter," she said quietly, interrupting his rambling sentence. 

"And I hope it's all right I used this. . .I couldn't find a proper tray and. . ."

"Walter." 

"What?" He was staring at the rumpled bed, his face glowing bright red.

"This is lovely. Thank you." She picked up the mug and took a sip of the coffee. 

"Oh. You're, uh, welcome." 

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble," she said, buttering a piece of toast. "I mean, it is lovely you brought me breakfast in bed, but I was hoping. . ." She set the bread down on the plate.

"Did you want to go out for breakfast?" He reached for the tray. "I can take this away and you can get ready and. . ." 

"Walter, no, it's okay." She sighed, realizing she was going to need to be patient with him, that this was all new to him, and he was in slightly over his head. But, she thought, she loved him all the more for it.

"Walter, I was hoping. . ." she began again.

"Hoping what?" he asked, genuinely confused. 

"I was hoping I would wake up and you'd be beside me and we would. . ." She had to press her lips together so she wouldn't laugh as his mouth dropped open, his face a mixture of shock and longing.

His eyes danced around the room, focusing on anything but her. " Oh, ah, I didn't want to. . .I did want to. . .but I didn't want to, um, presume. . .I mean w-we already. . .uh, twice. . .and y-you must be. . .I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," she said, tearing up again at the thought he was concerned about her well-being instead of just assuming she'd want to have sex again. True, she was a bit of sore, but just the idea of being with him again made her ache in a totally different way . 

"I just want you to be happy with me. I love you."

Oh, God, he was going to kill her with his awkward yet adorable thoughtfulness. "I am happy," she said, smiling up at him through her tears. "And I love you, too." Patting the empty bed beside her, she added, "Sit down and we can share."

"Um, okay." He walked around to the other side of the mattress, kicking off his shoes before climbing up beside her. "Uh. . .what. . ." 

He seemed surprised when she placed the makeshift tray onto the floor. She watched as understanding of what she was really offering dawned in his eyes, replacing his bewildered expression with a shy grin and a stare so intensely loving, she shivered in anticipation.

Leaning toward him, she kissed him as she started to unbutton his shirt. "I really like morning sex," she breathed into his ear as he stripped off his jeans, tossing them across the room. 

"Duly noted." 

"I think you'll like it too." She glanced down as he took off his boxers. "Oh, I see that you already do."

Her giggle was abruptly cut off as he let out an unexpected growl before crushing his lips on hers.

_____

**  
A YEAR LATER  
**

He twisted it one way, then the other. Sliding it up his finger, he slid it back down, repeating the motion several times before returning to twisting it again.

"It takes some time to get used to," said Paige, placing her left hand on his. "Especially if it's something you've never done before. You could take it off for awhile if you want."

"No, I'm okay." He glanced down at their entwined hands as they laid entwined on the bed. "It just. . .feels odd. . .but in a good way. If that makes any sense?" Looking back up at her face, his heart skipped a beat as she smiled at him.

"It does," she said with a laugh. She rubbed her thumb over the gold band on his ring finger. "Just like being called Mrs O'Brien feels odd. . .but in a good way."

"You didn't have to take my surname. It's an antiquated trad. . ."

"Shh. . ." she scolded, pressing a finger to his lips. "I wanted to. It's not anymore antiquated than you wearing a wedding ring."

"Actually, that's a fairly new tradition, it wasn't a common practice for men to wear wedding rings until World War II. Soldiers facing separations from their. . ."

Paige interrupted him again, this time by kissing him. "Somebody did their homework," she murmured, pulling back. "And you know how I get when you start spouting facts and figures."

Walter grinned mischievously. "Men going off to war starting wearing them as a reminder of their wives."

She arched an eyebrow. "So you need a reminder of your wife? We've only been married a day."

"Uh, no. . .I, um. . ." He glanced down at the ring on his finger then back up at her. "I want to wear this because I once believed I'd never get married, believed I would be alone the rest of my life, believed I'd never find anyone like you. It's proof that I was wrong."

Tears gathered in her eyes, and he worried he'd said the wrong thing. That notion quickly dissipated when she crawled on top of him.

"Be quiet and love me, nerd."

"Yes, love."

______

**FIN**


End file.
